


It Lies Behind Stars

by KasumiAFKGod, NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Loki (Marvel), BAMF Tony Stark, Domestic Fluff, Feels, Fluff, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Frostiron Minibang 2019, Getting Together, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Secret Identity, Villain Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2020-02-10 11:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18659830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KasumiAFKGod/pseuds/KasumiAFKGod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: Of all of the villains on Midgard, Iron Man was by far the most interesting.  He was witty and clever and charming, and by every sun in the Nine, Loki wanted him. But, unfortunately, Tony Stark just did not want Loki back.





	1. Better Than Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> So the Frostiron Minibang was meant to be only 1.5k minimum, but I, as per usual, ended up writing a little bit more than planned. Oh well. 
> 
> The art is by the amazing **KasumiAFKGod** , and I will link her tumblr at the end as well. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

Of all of the beings that the mortals of Midgard liked to call villain, Tony Stark was certainly the most interesting– with the obvious exception of Loki himself, of course.

Not that the Midgardians had been anywhere near able to prove that Tony Stark was the man behind the mask. Oh, they all knew that he had invented Iron Man– it was impossible not to, what with the coincidental timing of Iron Man’s first appearance five years prior, immediately after Stark had escaped a kidnapping under suspicious circumstances. Combine that with the way that Iron Man had exchanged his territory from LA to New York at the exact time Stark moved east and there was no room for doubt.

But Stark always had an alibi, a lie, and witty one-liner at the ready to chase away any possible accusation. And so, despite every person in the realm and several outside of it knowing exactly who Iron Man was, not one of his crimes had ever been pinned on Stark, and he was free to do as he pleased while the red and gold armour continued to terrorise the city.

And he did it brilliantly.

Iron Man was the only other villain who could match Loki for intellect, and who would be willing to flyte just as often as fight. He was also the only one whose antics would tug Loki’s lips into a smile, not too boring nor too predictable– and yet his plans always seemed to work. He was witty and clever and charming, and by every sun in the Nine, Loki wanted him. He wanted him as a teammate, a confidant, a lover. He wanted Tony Stark in every way that it was possible to want another person, and he wanted so desperately that he had started to ache with it.

But, unfortunately, Tony Stark just did not want Loki back.

It didn’t seem to matter what Loki did, or what he tried. He’d spoken to Stark on many occasions of course, usually while calling across over the heads of battling heroes, or sitting on rooftops enjoying the view of the city and needling each other for advice. But they couldn’t quite call each other friends, and Loki had never… informed Stark about his affections outright. After all, he is a _god_ , and would not stoop so low as to risk rejection in such a manner. But Loki also could not stand to simply sit and do nothing either, to wring his hands and let someone like Stark pass him by.

Because… there is no one else like Stark, not in all the Nine Realms, and as much as it hurt, Loki knew that he would take even the smallest of tastes– he’d accept anything, any amount of time, any form of relationship that Stark would be willing to endure. Hell, he’d even suffer for Stark to be an enemy– not to fight _properly_ , not with the goal to maim or capture, but just… to have some kind of contact.

 _Anything_ , after all, was always better than nothing.

It was a ludicrous notion, and it was _pathetic_ , but… Loki simply could not help it. Stark had wormed his way inside Loki’s mind, and perhaps even his heart– settling in comfortably and taking up enough space so as to cause a constant ache. It was truly not an exaggeration to say that there was nothing he wanted more, but he knew Stark well enough to recognise that to push too hard would probably be to push him away.

Still, Loki never truly came to a conscious decision on the matter, not until he had already found himself lurking in the shadows of some kind of factory, staring down fondly at the red and gold armour leaning over the console below.

He took a moment to try and work out what Stark was doing, following the movement of those deft fingers, freed from the gauntlets to allow the manoeuvrability necessary to work a keyboard. They flew over the buttons with practiced ease– not searching, but with a clear purpose.

When the gauges on the console began to light up and the air blared with the sound of an alarm, it wasn’t hard to decipher the end goal.

“You do realise that’s going to explode,” Loki said brightly, revealing his presence.

Iron Man hardly even twitched. “I hope so,” he said, remaining focused on what he was doing. “That is the plan, after all.”

“Oh, but that’s so _boring_. Surely you can—”

“Maybe I just really don’t like this factory,” Iron Man replied. “Maybe the tacky grey blockiness of it hurts my eyes—”

“It is rather basic,” Loki agreed, knowing, of course, that the architecture had nothing to do with it, but not really caring either way. He always enjoyed the banter, and he saw no reason to end it. “Really, what are you up to this time?”

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Iron Man asked. “Actually, scratch that– why are you even _here?”_

“I asked first,” Loki replied, keeping his grin bright and frustrating, an expression that he had perfected while he and Thor had been children. “So come on then, what did this factory do to cause you such an insult that you have decided its existence is no longer necessary?”

Finally, Loki got more of a reaction as Iron Man actually turned to look at him. They considered each other for a moment, as if Iron Man were trying to work out Loki’s motive just as Loki was trying to decipher his.

Then, in a tone of voice which suggested the words were accompanied by a smirk, Iron Man said– “Why don’t you guess?”

Loki’s lips curled up into a smirk of his own, as they often did when he was presented with a challenge. “I suppose that would be more intriguing.” It _was_ fun, after all, to try and pry apart the pieces of Iron Man, to work out what made him tick.

The only problem was that in this instance… to be honest, Loki had no idea.

He’d only managed to trace Iron Man to the factory because he’d noticed the suit flying overhead, and had followed him the rest of the way. There had never really seemed to be a discernible pattern in the armoured villain’s attacks, not in his targets nor the manner in which he disposed of them– it was always entertaining to watch, but otherwise… there hardly seemed to be a connection.

However.

Loki was better versed now in the workings of Midgard than he once had been. He had managed to acquire one of the devices that Midgardians used to communicate with each other, and he used it to keep up with news. Originally, he had done so to observe the fall out of his own mischief and to know where to hit and what ploys to pull in order to have the greatest impact, but now... he would be lying if he said that he did not pay particular attention to articles that mentioned either Iron Man or Tony Stark.

And, actually, he remembered reading an article that very afternoon about something the Roxxon Energy Corporation had done– and surely _that_ , at least, was not a coincidence.

“I _am_ aware that this company is a competitor of Stark Industries,” Loki said, his tone light.

“Why would I care about SI?” Iron Man said unflinchingly, his gaze back on the console. “No. Try again.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. The deflection was as obvious as a dwarf on Alfheim, and it was a game he was still willing to play. “Why else would you want to destroy the company which just this morning announced that its new power plant would outperform SI’s plans for arc reactor technology three times over?”

“Maybe I just don’t like dirty energy,” Iron Man countered, and Loki huffed.

Stark Industries was the largest name in clean energy amongst other Midgardian corporations, Loki knew that. It was the motive that made the most sense, so it would seem that Iron Man was just serious about not admitting his, ah, _connection_ to Tony Stark.

But he also seemed to genuinely want Loki to work out his scheme, so maybe there _was_ something else at work, here.

A new strategy was required, perhaps.

“Maybe you’re just doing it for the money,” Loki said, half stalling for time to think and half hoping that the ridiculous suggestion would goad Iron Man into—

“Maybe I am,” Iron Man said with a shrug, the amusement clear in his tone. “Maybe I placed a bet on Roxxon being destroyed by the end of the week, and I’m just getting a head start.”

Loki blinked.

Even though it had clearly been meant as a distraction, presented as a joke so that Loki wouldn’t believe it to be truth, it was as clear as day that actually, Iron Man… wasn’t lying.

“Why do you need _money?”_ he asked incredulously.

“Maybe my wages are shit,” Iron Man suggested. “Or maybe I just _like_ it. That’s what villains are meant to want, right? Piles of treasure to roll in while twirling their mustache?”

“I hope not,” Loki replied. “I don’t have the facial structure for a mustache.”

Iron Man snorted at that, and Loki’s lips curved up into a grin. He took the opportunity to jump down to the ground from his perch, leaning against a wall a few yards from Stark instead. Iron Man watched his every move, the suit not making a single sound as his head tilted.

“You still haven’t told me why _you’re_ here,” Iron Man said, though his amusement had not waned. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Loki warned– because okay, perhaps there had been a slight element of such involved, but he couldn’t afford for Iron Man to _realise_ it. “Actually, I was in the area, and I saw this factory and thought it would look so _beautiful_ in pieces, silhouetted against the sky in a rain of fire—”

“I thought explosions were boring,” Iron Man interrupted. He was facing Loki properly now, his arms crossed over his chest– but Loki got the impression that under the helmet, Stark was grinning.

Loki’s own grin stretched wide. “Not if they’re done properly.”

“Trust me,” Iron Man replied. “I _know_ how to do an explosion properly.”

Loki didn’t doubt that in the slightest. After all, he’d watched and marvelled over some of Stark’s feats in the past, and he _knew_ the man’s history– at least insofar as he was able to through his perusal of the internet. But that didn’t stop his lips from curling in a smirk as he leaned forward with a slight touch of excitement.

“Then impress me,” he drawled.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Iron Man replied, matching Loki’s tone. “I will.”

“Good, I would hate to be—”

Loki was cut off by a sudden loud blaring, a sound that was designed to cut people straight to the bone, electrifying adrenaline and causing a sick feeling to the stomach. Lights were flashing all around, and there were numerous warning signs all over the screens behind Iron Man.

“Oh,” the armoured villain said, turning to face the console that he had abandoned in the middle of… whatever he had been doing to it. “Oh, _crap_.”

“What?” Loki asked warily.

“Well, this place is going to blow in about ten seconds—”

“ _What?”_

Iron Man didn’t wait– he tackled Loki with arms around the waist, knocking the wind from him and lifting him into the air all in the same moment. They were soaring up, up—

Up through the hole in the roof which must have been Iron Man’s entrance point—

Up and _out_ , and then, well, Loki expected to be put down but Iron Man just kept on going– but he wasn’t going _fast_ enough, they weren’t going to make it—

Desperate, Loki reached for his seiðr and curled it around the both of them. At first, he’d only meant to create a protective bubble but he was frantic enough that he just kept going, pulling at his power and tearing them _both_ through the gap between worlds, hurtling between the branches of Yggdrasil on wings of Iron—

And then they crashed, slamming down onto tarmac in a flurry of gravel and stone.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Iron Man swore, letting his head fall back into the crater they had created, his arms falling to the ground from where they had come to rest around Loki’s waist and shoulders. “What the hell _was_ that?”

“I just gave your engine a little extra shove,” Loki muttered, not really wanting to explain what he’d actually done.

Thankfully, the explosion cut off any further chance for Iron Man to ask questions, and they both turned their heads to revel in the concussive force that surged through the whole area, in the blast of light and the billow of smoke that they could see even from several blocks away.

“It would have been magnificent to watch,” Stark muttered, shifting lightly.

Loki took that as his cue to move, pulling away from Stark’s chest and rolling to the ground beside him. Stark helped with a light shove, and then they just lay for a moment, catching their breath and letting their minds piece together everything that had happened.

Stark broke the silence with a heavy sigh, the sound ringing slightly metallic from the speaker. “Well,” he said, “this is definitely _your_ fault—”

“How?” Loki protested instantly, propping himself up on an elbow so that he could properly direct his glare. “I do not even know what you were trying to _do—_ ”

“I had this _planned_ ,” Iron Man complained. “Right down to the last second. It was going to be so dramatic too, but now—”

“It was still a very impressive explosion,” Loki pointed out. “You do not have to fear that anyone will find the blast lacking in dramatics.”

“Yeah,” Iron Man whined. “But now no one will know that it was me.”

Loki stared for a moment, taking in the petulant tone, the slump to his shoulders, and the way that his head was tilted toward the ground.

And then Loki started to laugh.

It wasn’t his normal chuckle, and the sound of it surprised even him– it was loud guffaws and a bright grin, almost a _chortle_ as he watched the way that Iron Man crossed his arms.

And oh, but Loki could even _hear_ his pout as he next spoke.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Iron Man muttered. “It’s not like that was a whole week’s plan gone straight down the drain.”

“You broke into a factory in the middle of the night by charging straight through the roof, and then you decided to explode it just so that you could watch– or maybe to win a _bet_ ,” Loki replied amusedly. “Please. I know boredom when I see it.”

“Well, at least I use my boredom productively,” Iron Man muttered, though Loki noted that he… wasn’t arguing. “What even _was_ that last week? Attack of the amphibians?”

Loki shrugged. He wasn’t about to admit that the thousands of frogs that had invaded Central Park had only been a distraction for something else, and that the Loki cackling on the roof of the Met had been a mere illusion. After all, he might be _intrigued_ by Iron Man, but he didn’t _trust_ him, and he wasn’t about to give away any of his secrets.

Iron Man shook his head. “Whatever. I have to admit, I _did_ enjoy watching Rogers try to catch the damn things in his shield.”

“I am surprised that they did not simply squish them all,” Loki agreed. “Perhaps I should try again, see if there is a different result.”

“Please, you never try the same trick twice,” Iron Man replied, and Loki grinned.

“Sometimes I do,” he corrected. “There’s something captivating about watching someone make the same mistake over and over. Do you know how many times I have managed to convince Thor that disguises are necessary for a mission when they most certainly were not?”

“Oh, god,” Iron Man cackled. “And hey, speaking of, what was Thor even _doing?_ He was looking at every single frog like he thought they were going to bite him—”

“Or stab him, maybe,” Loki replied dryly. “I suppose he _does_ learn, given enough practice.”

“There’s a story there,” Iron Man observed. “I’d like to hear it some time.”

It was a fight to keep his expression under control, but Loki thought he might have _just_ managed it.

Had Stark really just… agreed to spend more time with Loki in the future?

Iron Man turned and finally pushed himself into a sitting position and then to his feet, seeming to have no difficulty with the weight of the suit while doing so. Loki followed with a certain sense of sadness, realising that the moment of camaraderie was coming to an end.

As if sensing Loki’s thoughts, Iron Man paused before leaving, and offered Loki a tilt of his head that gave the same impression as a smile. “So, come on,” he said. “Spill. Did the explosion impress you?”

“I suppose I have been part of missions that fell apart to a far worse extent,” Loki replied. Though of course, the answer in his mind differed greatly to the one he gave aloud. Because while Loki had seen explosions that were far more impressive – had seen Stark create explosions that were, even – the end result of this one left him feeling _light_.

Even though it had been in a moment of danger, and even though they had been encased in hard metal, the memory of Iron Man’s arm around his waist was a memory he would be able to look back on fondly– but not because of the physical closeness.

The simple fact of the matter was that Loki could have got himself out of that factory easily. Stark knew that– he’d seen Loki skywalk before, he knew exactly what Loki was capable of. Well, perhaps not _exactly_ , but enough to know that an explosion like that would not have been a problem for him. And yet, Stark’s first instinct had not been to get himself to safety, but had been to make sure that Loki would get away, as well– even when that act wasted a few precious seconds that likely would have resulted in Iron Man’s injury, if Loki had not used his seiðr to protect them.

It was a little confusing, because it wasn’t like Iron Man was one of the Avengers with a self-sacrificing streak four miles wide. He wasn’t a _good_ person, and surely, it was impossible that Iron Man had done it simply to be _nice_.

Loki forced the thought away before he could finish it. If he started thinking like _that_ , he would only be setting himself up for more pain.

“Aw, come on,” Iron Man prompted, and Loki realised that he was waiting for more of an answer. “I saw that smile, earlier.”

“This has been mildly entertaining,” Loki admitted– true, at least, for the situation if not for the explosion itself. Then, deciding to be honest, he added– “Although… it truly did lack your usual flair.”

“Yeah,” Iron Man sighed, and it shouldn’t have been possible to see him deflate, what with all the armour– but there was a definite slump to his shoulders that Loki was not used to seeing.

Loki felt hesitant, almost, and he wondered if he should probably leave it. But there was something to that slump that just seemed so defeated, and it was such a sudden contrast to before that Loki couldn’t help but wonder whether Iron Man’s earlier enjoyment had been false.

“Is something wrong?” Loki asked, still hesitant, still cautious. Iron Man took a moment to form his answer– but a moment was all Loki needed to have already worked out the answer himself. “It wasn’t _just_ boredom that made you decide to win your bet tonight, was it?”

Again, Iron Man remained silent, his golden faceplate impossible to read. But Loki saw something in this that was painfully familiar, and he knew that he was right.

Iron Man seemed to recognise Loki’s understanding, because the silence was not harsh– it was merely… considering, like Iron Man was once again deciding how much he could let Loki know for sure.

Then, a moment later—

“No,” Iron Man said, glancing away. “It wasn’t.”

It was Loki’s turn to be silent then, just waiting, showing patience and willingness to listen. It would no doubt have been an odd scene to walk upon– Iron Man and Loki of Asgard, standing opposite each other in the centre of a silent New York street in the dead of the night, just watching each other. Not much time passed through before Iron Man sighed again, giving in to Loki’s silence.

“I’d just had enough of everything you know?” He shrugged, the metal whirring softly with the movement. “There were so many people asking things of me, demanding that I do this, do that, _be_ this, _fake_ that, and I just…” Iron Man let out a long sigh, the sound odd and tinny as it escaped his speaker system. “I just needed to know that I could do _something_ because I chose to, you know?”

They were words that could have come from Loki’s mouth when he was younger, and they hit him solidly in the chest. He had always known that there was more to Iron Man than met the eye, and every time he spoke with him, it only made him want to get to know the man under the suit a whole lot more. Because those were not the words of a billionaire turned supervillain– they were the words of a man with a world on his shoulders, a man whose life was not his own. And while nothing about it seemed to match together, it did make a big mark in Loki’s understanding of Iron Man’s person.

“You should always do things because you choose to,” Loki told him, fighting the gentleness out of his tone until it simply sounded like firm advice. “Don’t let anyone else manage your life.”

“That sounds like a good philosophy to live by,” Iron Man said, sounding wistful. “You know what? Sometimes I wish that I could just….” He jerked his head, slightly, as if he were forcibly cutting himself off. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Loki was more curious than he had ever been, but before he could say a thing Iron Man’s repulsors were burning, and he was hovering a few feet above the ground. So, rather than making it more painful than it needed to be, Loki merely followed his ascent with an upward tilt to his chin.

“I suppose I’ll see you ‘round, Reindeer Games,” Iron Man said, touching the side of his gauntlet to his temple in a half-hearted salute before jetting off in the direction of the city.

Loki watched him go, his eyes tracing that streak of red and gold until it no longer could be seen.

“Goodnight, Stark,” Loki whispered, the words lost on the breeze.

Getting involved in Iron Man’s plot may not have been what Loki intended for his evening, but it had been _fun_. Loki and Iron Man hadn’t even been working together, but by forcing a conversation Loki had been able to spend time with the man, get to know him a little– had even managed to make him _laugh_.

Knowing that was more than enough to rekindle a little bit of old hope, to make him consider once again actually _trying_.

 _Something_ had always been better than nothing, after all.

—•—

Loki knew that it was a bad idea. He’d been able to concoct plans far more elaborate than this as a _child_. But Stark had given Loki the hope that maybe there could be more than just the scraps of conversation, that maybe Loki could wrap his hands around just a little bit _more_ – and with that chance in mind, how could he not just charge forward without an ounce of hesitation?

You see, it started the next morning, when Loki realised that most of what he knew of Stark had been from his own observation or from a third party, such as the internet or stolen SHIELD intelligence. He hadn’t learned about Stark from Stark himself, and he knew without an inkling of a doubt that Stark’s telling of his own story would be different to any other.

Then, with that in mind, Loki remembered the way that Iron Man had acted when Loki had offered that tidbit about his childhood, how he had appeared _curious_.

And it was with those notions that his mind concocted a dangerous thought.

 _Maybe, if we spend more time together, he shall grow fond of me just as I have of him_.

Dangerous, because it was simple, and it grew all through Loki’s mind like a rot until he could hardly think of anything else, eliminating his ability to devise anything other than a rushed strategy with only a single step. Indeed, it truly was the sort of plan Thor might have come up with when they were younglings first learning the desires of the heart and body, lacking in finesse and sounding like something out of one of their mother’s romantic night-time stories, and so terribly unlikely to work that Loki did not truly wish to even try. But he could not help it– the thought of being in Stark’s presence again, of being able to not only talk with him but share amusement and victory and a companionship that might, maybe, one day turn into a friendship, was simply too tempting to ignore.

So, when Loki heard that a cache of old Stark Industries weapons had been found under a coffee shop in the city of Los Angeles, he was leaping between the branches of Yggdrasil and getting himself across the country as fast as he could.

“You really are stalking me, aren’t you?” Iron Man asked by way of greeting, his arms crossed over his chest as he hovered at the entrance to the cafe, ignoring the people taking pictures and videos on their smartphones. “Really? All the way out here?”

“You’re still flattering yourself,” Loki replied, somehow unsurprised to find himself already smiling. “I simply wanted the weapons for myself. And you should be glad that I’m not inclined to waste my time stopping you, because I’m sure that I’m not the only one with my eyes on this particular prize.”

Iron Man huffed. “You’re such a liar.”

“Of course I am,” Loki said with a smirk. “But it doesn’t make what I said untrue.”

Loki was honestly thankful when MODOK showed up with a few dozen yellow-clad AIM workers, since it not only gave credence to his excuse but also provided him with a spot of extra entertainment. Because even though AIM had interrupted a relatively easy excursion and a pleasurable conversation, Loki was delighted to learn that fighting beside Iron Man was not only exciting– it was _fun_.

MODOK’s mental powers were no match for the shields Loki could create with his seiðr, and without that advantage, MODOK was no match for Iron Man. That left Loki to play a little game with the beekeeper-like minions, and together, he and Stark were able to eliminate the threat and _coincidentally_ explode the weapons in the process.

(Iron Man had put on a show of guilt after they had gone up in smoke, but Loki had simply rolled his eyes and continued onward. _Honestly_. It was almost like he thought his identity was a secret or something.)

Through it all, Loki couldn’t help but notice that despite their vastly different technique and style, they melded like a dream and fought like a nightmare, coming out the other side with barely a scratch and leaving their opponents with nothing to give but whimpers.

And afterward, when the weapons were destroyed and MODOK was left hogtied for the local authorities to deal with—

(“It’s so much more demeaning than if we ended him,” Stark had explained, and Loki had grinned viciously in agreement.)

—Iron Man actually touched Loki’s arm when he offered his thanks.

What followed was a slew of interrupted plots and easy conversations as they kept on _bumping into_ each other, engineering meetings that somehow never felt like they were forced. Loki always kept an eye out for whenever Iron Man was sighted– and after a while, he began to suspect that perhaps Stark was doing the same thing.

‘Why are you here?’ was their habitual greeting for a while, though it quickly melted away to be replaced by jests and inside jokes. And Loki, without fail, was always subduing a smile whenever that red and gold armour appeared in his line of vision, or when he heard the tell-tale whirr of the repulsors. He began to look forward to Stark invading his plots, even on the occasions when he was legitimately trying to achieve something– though as his games with Iron Man drew him in, his pursuit of the Avengers and chaotic machinations began to seem like less of a priority.

The day that the newspaper headlines first listed Iron Man and Loki as a _team_ was the day that Loki’s heart properly began to defrost—

And, coincidentally, it was also the day that Iron Man staged a spectacle in Central Park that included a pack of Roombas, enough knives and duct tape to match, and a loud, flashy speech.

 _Literally_ flashy, by the way, though that wasn’t that impressive, considering. It couldn’t have been difficult for Stark to whip up those fireworks, even if they were larger than any Loki had seen during the few Midgardian celebrations he had witnessed.

And then, when Loki appeared, Iron Man had tackled him bodily out of the sky and crashed them both against the ground in a manner that was reminiscent of the Roxxon explosion, save the fact that this was _definitely_ more purposeful.

Thus their battle began, a skirmish that would capture the attention of several news helicopters and, of course, only became more flamboyant because of it.

Loki could hear the laughter, and he knew that while the smile painted across his own lips was vicious, it was also one of intense delight. It had been so long since he had been able to just fight– not to save his own life, or because he wanted something, but just for the enjoyment of it, the rush of adrenaline and the beauty to be found in the clash of wills. And Stark gave such lovely contest, fighting and flyting all at once, pushing Loki to limits that had not been tested in so very long. He enjoyed it to the end, and even though they made a show of parting in a huff, Iron Man still gave Loki a parting quip that was said with the brightness of a smile.

The media the next day announced their conflict and debated over the fallout, so Loki made sure that he was seen that very evening at Iron Man’s side, holding up a protective shield while Stark hacked his way into the screens at Times Square and live streamed a high quality bootleg of _Hamilton_.

It was a mess and it was amazing, a chaotic mix of villainy and madness, and Loki was lapping it up every moment with the ecstasy of far too long a wait.

It was still dangerous, he was far too aware of the risks, and it was tempting to curl away and shield his heart. But he was a slave to the way that the ache in his chest and the yearning in his bones continued to crave more.

Loki was falling deeper with every passing day, and even though he feared that there would be nothing at the end of the fall to catch him, he knew that what little he could gain along the way would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the art for this chapter on tumblr [here!](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/184556416398/i-was-lucky-enough-to-be-quietlyapocalyptics)


	2. Silver Lining

If Iron Man and Loki were the best villains to grace the surface of Midgard, then Doctor Doom was by far one of the worst, and not even in the good way.

Oh sure, the mortal fancied himself a sorcerer, and Loki had to admire his tenacity and determination to pursue the greatest art, even if his species was not suited for it. He was not powerful enough to be a true threat, and Loki could have completely ignored him, leaving Doom to his own devices– if only the strange monarch had not developed something of an interest in _Loki_.

Loki wasn’t entirely sure _why_. At first, he thought that maybe Doom just wanted an alliance, to work together to overcome those that called themselves heroes. It was entirely out of the question, obviously – Doom would be more of a hindrance than a help, and besides, Loki didn’t think he could cope with more than five minutes of listening to him referring to himself in the third person before he snapped and smote him, alliance or not – but then things started to get a little… strange.

Doom would seek Loki out, interrupting fights and showing up at moments when he most certainly did not belong.

And, okay, so maybe that was what Loki was doing to Iron Man—

But—

Oh, _Norns_.

If Doom was harbouring some kind of _obsession—_

Still, it was _mostly_ easy to ignore. Loki was the superior mage by far and more than capable of sending Doom to some unpopulated part of the planet whenever he grew too irritating to bear, and it wasn’t too difficult to set up a spell that would alert Loki to the presence of Doom’s magic. He was a minor irritation at best, an insect that could be swatted away, but was simply too much effort and not dangerous enough to bother squishing properly.

But then, there was the day that Loki’s wards on his apartment were tripped.

He didn’t rush back– he trusted his own skill with shielding, and had no desire to face Doom head on, nor give away that he was aware of what Doom was doing. But when he did finally return, it was with a prickle on the back of his neck and a horrible feeling of being watched.

A quick inspection showed that Doom hadn’t managed to get in, but even though he was not much of a threat, the thought of him knowing where Loki lived was more than a little unsettling. So, Loki turned in his heel, locked the door sweep of his hand and a surge of seiðr, and left the apartment behind without a second thought.

And sure, perhaps there was a better choice of where to take refuge than his chosen destination but… when Loki tried to think of a place where he might feel safe, only one place jumped immediately to mind.

—•—

It probably should have been more difficult to get inside Stark Tower. He was expecting to be met with a wicked defence system worthy of one of the greatest minds in the realm, but instead, when he stepped out of the paths of Yggdrasil and onto Stark’s landing pad, it was to find an unlocked door and a welcoming voice.

Stark’s AI, JARVIS, informed him that Stark was still asleep but would be awake in likely less than an hour, but that he was more than welcome to wait.

It truly wasn’t something that he was used to hearing, and the word made Loki feel warm. There he was, simply walking into Stark’s home entirely uninvited, and not only was he not being met with hostility– he was being _welcomed._

It didn’t make a lot of sense, and it added to the mortal’s intrigue. Once more Loki was stuck with the desire to try and solve the puzzle that was Stark– but did not feel right to snoop while Stark slept, so he made himself at home upon one of Stark’s comfortable couches and waited for the mortal to make his appearance.

As JARVIS had promised, it did not take long before Stark stumbled into the living area, his eyes glazed and his hair a mess. He was wearing comfortable pants and a singlet that proved he did far more than merely sit at a desk all day– and which also revealed the glowing blue light in his chest, which was both further evidence toward the obvious _and_ another interesting marker that set Stark away from anyone else.

Why did he keep such a clear identifier on him at all times when he clearly wished his identity to remain a secret? Was it a safety thing, or a defence mechanism?

But if that were the case, then why had he left his window unlocked?

Answers leading to more questions, solutions that only made the puzzle that much more complex.

Stark truly was the most interesting of creatures, and even standing in the middle of the room, rumpled and dishevelled and not yet entirely awake, the sight of him still caused Loki’s lips to curve into a smile.

“Good morning Stark,” Loki said, and he didn’t try to hide his amusement as Stark’s head snapped over to where Loki was lying back comfortably, half hoping that it would help to hide his own nervousness.

“Okay,” Stark said, his eyes wide confused. “So… Loki’s on my couch.”

“I did warn you,” JARVIS said, and Loki smirked at the AI’s attitude. He had the feeling that the two of them might be able to get along fairly well, so long as Loki did not threaten Stark’s wellbeing– something that he had no intention of doing, regardless.

“Yes, I am so sorry for not believing you when you told me that Loki was in my living room,” Stark muttered, rubbing his hands over his face in a clear attempt to wake himself up. “Why didn’t you get rid of him?”

“Sir, you have registered Mr Liesmith as a non-hostile,” the AI said, and Loki’s smirk deepened. _Ah, so that was why it was so easy to get inside._

“Did I?” Stark asked, frowning blearily. “Are you sure?”

“Completely, Sir.”

“He’s right,” Loki agreed, and when Stark shot him a glare, Loki raised his brows. “Don’t deny it, Stark. I thought we were friends.”

“Uh, no,” Stark said instantly, turning to move toward the coffee machine as he added, “I have never talked to you in my life.”

Loki stood and followed, already falling back into the familiar relaxed and amused state that he usually found himself in while sharing Stark’s company, any lingering unease from the earlier incident at his apartment melting away. He let his armour melt away as well, his clothes morphing into something more casual to reflect his comfort.

“Oh, please. We spoke two days ago,” he said, leaning forward on the counter as he watched Stark collect his morning beverage.

“When Iron Man attacked a fleet of Hammer drones, Sir,” JARVIS added quickly.

Stark waited until he’d taken a swig of hot coffee before he pinned Loki with yet another glare. Though despite the fact that Stark seemed a little more awake now that he had a mug in his hand, it wasn’t quite as strong as the last, and there was an unmistakable spark of amusement dancing around the edges of his lips.

“I’m not Iron Man,” he said, his tone holding the exact same amount of exasperation as it did when he made the same denial to reporters a thousand times over.

Loki rolled his eyes, and then continued as if Stark hadn’t spoken.

“It is quite irresponsible to leave your windows unlocked, you know,” he said. “Really, you’re _lucky_ that it was only me. It could have been anyone.”

“I live a thousand feet up,” Stark said, half harsh and half falling toward a groan. “Who the hell else—”

“You’re really asking that?” Loki asked, amused. “You fly around in a metal suit, and you—”

“If I _did_ fly around in this alleged suit,” Stark said, “then wouldn’t that be even more reason not to worry about people breaking in through the window? I could just repulsor them, then.”

“Maybe,” Loki replied, his smirk well in place once more. “But only if they were _hostile_ , correct?”

Stark snorted at that, and then paused as if he had surprised himself with that reaction. He recovered well though, and said, “Yeah, okay, so maybe I _believe_ that you’re not here to hurt me. Are you going to prove me wrong?”

“I hope not,” Loki replied. “I suppose that depends on whether you’re going to give me the need.”

Stark considered that for a moment, and Loki could actually see the cogs turning in his mind.

Loki had learned to be able to read Stark’s body language and vocal tones well enough to gauge something of his mood, but in comparison being able to see an actual expression was like water to wine. Stark’s face was so beautifully expressive that Loki lamented the fact that Iron Man wore a helmet which hid his features entirely. He understood the necessity, of course he did, because even if Iron Man liked for people to know exactly who was behind his crimes, his safety, his fortune, his _livelihood_ would be on the line if anyone were ever able to get their hands on any admissible proof that the man behind the mask was Tony Stark. But that didn’t mean that Loki couldn’t wish for more opportunities to watch the way that Starks’ emotions flitted across his face.

Loki was drawn from his musings as Stark suddenly jerked his head once in a gesture that was unmistakably a nod, and Loki felt his whole body sag in relief.

He was about to say something embarrassing – a thank you, perhaps, or some other form of gratitude that would have greatly lowered his chances of upholding his reputation as a cold and ruthless villain – when thankfully he was saved by a sudden and unexpected question.

“Do you want a drink?”

Loki blinked, shaken by something more than just surprise. “Excuse me?”

“A drink,” Stark said again, speaking slowly. “I’ve got one, and it feels weird drinking my coffee with you just sitting there staring at me.”

 _Oh_. Right. Stark was only offering out of a sense of awkwardness and hospitality. That made a lot more sense than the idea that he might actually be showing Loki some level of kindness.

Although– perhaps that was a little unfair.

Stark, after all, had never been anything other than kind to Loki– sure, he could be standoffish and rude, but he didn’t sugar-coat and he was never unnecessarily cruel. Even before they had begun to speak, Stark had never spat in his direction like many others had, and his sharp words generally had some kind of purpose.

Still, it was clear that if Stark did see Loki as a friend, he only saw it as appropriate to act so when in his villain guise, and not while wearing the face of an ordinary businessman. It was a distinction that was most likely a further protection for his identity, carrying over now even when there was no one watching, and Loki could not begrudge him that.

But it still stung, and Loki was forced to swallow it all down to be able to gift Stark with a polite smile.

“I would love one,” he said.

“Coffee?”

 _No_.

“Yes, that would be nice, thank you.”

Stark’s gaze narrowed as if he didn’t quite believe the answer. But what was there not to trust? Loki was only choosing a _beverage_ —

“Loki,” he said slowly, elongating the first syllable and clicking the second against his teeth. “Was that another lie?”

“Why would I—”

“ _Loki_.”

“It is just a drink,” Loki said. “Just give me the coffee, I don’t mind—”

“You told me not to allow anyone else to manage my life,” Stark pointed out with a sharp grin, and despite the jolt that sent through him – had Stark just offered an admission? – Loki rolled his eyes. deciding not to make the moment any more than it needed to be.

“I wasn’t referring to being rude and—”

“Stop trying to be polite, Loki,” Stark snapped. “Just tell me what you _want_.”

It was a ludicrous thing to get into an argument about, but they were both stubborn and more than a little headstrong. When presented with a hill, they would both pull out their weapons and stand firm, no matter how small the issue.

Loki could see that Stark was not going to back down on this, and he did not really know why he was trying to hold his ground, anyway. So, he shoved his need to have the last word down as deep as he could, let out a gust of air, and gave Stark his answer.

“I would prefer tea, if you have it,” Loki admitted.

“God, it’s like pulling teeth,” Stark muttered. Then, louder– “Right, good. Okay, one tea, coming up.”

It took Stark a moment to locate the kettle, but once that had been retrieved from a cabinet and set to boil, the rest of the process went relatively quickly. The tea bags that were fished out of the pantry were not of high quality, but Loki did not mind. They were far superior to any coffee, and they tasted all the better for having been made for him by Stark.

Once Loki had his steaming mug in hand, the two tired villains were left on either side of the counter, leaning against it and watching the other in interest. It was there that Loki realised Stark considered him a riddle just as much as Loki considered Stark to be an enigma, and they were both attempting to work their way to a solution. It was an interesting thought, because while he was used to people not understanding him, he was just as accustomed to them not being interested enough to look any closer.

Stark filled the silence with chatter that Loki was more than happy to listen to, interjecting here and there and just enjoying the company. They didn’t touch on anything important, they just _talked_ , and it felt so natural that Loki almost began to forget that this wasn’t the way that they normally were.

It was only when Stark drained the last drop out of his mug that the illusion was broken.

“I’m going to have to head down soon,” Stark told him. “So I guess you can just… clear out?”

Loki should have been able to rein in his reaction, but he couldn’t help the slight twist to his lips at the thought. He didn’t want to leave, and not only because he had hoped to spend some more time with Stark. There was no chance of him going back to his apartment, not when he still didn’t know how Doom had managed to find him, and he couldn’t find a new one right away.

Oh, he could _acquire_ one, easily– a little seiðr went a long way to convincing real estate agents into making a quick sale. But the wards took time, and he would _need_ time to add to the spells he had used before. He would not be willing to take any risks.

At least Loki could be relatively sure that even if Doom _did_ track him to Stark Tower, he would not be bold enough to attack it– so for the short time that Loki might be permitted to stay, he could take the time to relax and regain his wits.

He did not know what his expression must have looked like, but either his mask was slipping or Stark found it suspicious, because the mortal’s frown was deepening from confusion into something that almost looked like concern.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Loki asked.

“You’re…” Stark tilted his head, and his mug clacked against the counter as he put it down a little unevenly. “I don’t know, you just seem…”

“I am fine,” Loki said stiffly. “And you said that you needed to go—”

“You don’t want to leave,” Stark said, his eyes widening. “But it’s… not because of me, it’s something else, isn’t it?”

Loki could see that Stark was on the cusp of understanding, and he was half tempted to simply do as Stark had asked and leave. But the thought was bitter and made him feel ill, so he swallowed it down, raised his chin, and hoped for the best.

And, sure enough—

“You’re hiding from something,” Stark realised. “Fuck. Who are _you_ afraid of—”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Loki snapped. “He’s just– he’s _irritating,_ he won’t leave me alone, and even though I have said _so many times_ that even if my seiðr _did_ work like that he wouldn’t be able to even use it—”

“Okay, whoa, slow down.”

The change that had come over Stark was remarkable– no longer was he the tired businessman that was putting up with an unexpected and imposing houseguest. All of a sudden his back was straight and his expression fierce, and there was something protective about the set of his eyes which surprised Loki so much that he actually began to answer.

“Victor von Doom,” he sighed. “He is the monarch of Latveria, and calls himself—”

“Doctor Doom?” Stark cut in incredulously. “You came here to hide from _Doctor Doom?_ ”

“Do not say it like that,” Loki snapped, forcing his irritation forward so that he did not curl in on himself. “You see? I knew that I should not have told you—”

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Stark said, a touch of desperation lining the apology in his tone. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just meant… I thought he was on your side?”

“Why ever would you think that?” Loki snorted. “Please. I thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”

“I just… you’re both villains, so it would make sense, I guess?”

Loki was surprised by how much the thought that Stark could believe Loki’s motives would ever align with Doom’s _hurt_ , and it pressed his next words closer to anger than they otherwise would have been.

“Would you say that _you_ are on the same side as Doom?” Loki asked sharply.

“Of course not,” Stark said with a frown. “He’s a lunatic.”

“Then why should I be?” Loki snapped. “Is it because you think me a lunatic as well, or is it because both Doom and I are practitioners of what your world calls _magic?_ ” Loki hoped that wasn’t true, because suspicion based merely on a shared affinity for wielding seiðr was something Loki had put up with all of his life from his so-called friends on Asgard, and he knew that hearing it from Stark would hurt so much more.

But rather than looking guilty or confused or contrary, Stark _flinched_ , and Loki… couldn’t quite work out why.

There was something in his expression though, something worried and horrified and peppered with a touch of… fear?

The thought of someone as formidable as Stark being afraid of him _should_ have put a spring in Loki’s step, but somehow, it just made him feel _sick_. Thankfully though, Stark’s next words were enough to steer the conversation back toward easier waters.

“What has Doom done to you?” Stark asked, the worry appearing to win out between the other myriad of emotions that had danced across his face.

“He hasn’t _done_ anything,” Loki replied. “He is merely an irritation—”

“He’s been after you for a while,” Stark muttered. “I don’t understand why you haven’t just squished him already. It’s not like you’d find it difficult.”

“He’s not worth it,” Loki replied easily, the compliment taking away some of the sting from Stark’s earlier words. “I only came here because I did not know where he was, and did not wish to be taken by surprise. You’re right, I have been his obsession for some time now, and I have no desire to become his _pet_.”

“Okay,” Stark said stiffly. “Remind me how this started?

“He has always been obsessed with me, right from the start,” Loki muttered. “He tried to make an ally of me at first—”

“But, what? He wasn’t good enough for you?”

“Exactly,” Loki agreed, and even though Stark did not smile, his eyes flashed just slightly with a glint of amusement. “I turned him down, oh, I know not how many times. And when he finally realised that I would not go with him willingly, he decided to try and use force.”

Stark’s expression darkened at that, his eyes narrowing and his lips twisting into something angry. “What kind of force?” he asked, voice low and burning.

“Magic, and overwhelming numbers mostly,” Loki said with a shrug. “He does not realise that he cannot make me do something I do not wish to, and he remains no match for me.”

“So, he’s been attacking you like he would the Avengers?”

“Well, the two are not entirely similar. He has also tried to push me through a portal that led to the dungeon of his castle.” Loki paused, and then added, “That was after he tried to trap me in the magic-suppressing cuffs he stole from the Avengers.” He snorted. “Even if he had managed it, I would have been able to defeat him. He relies so much on his robots and his weak magic that he has forgotten how to fight with his hands.”

“Right, so he’s no match for you—”

“Of course not. As you said, I could utterly destroy him in an instant.”

“Right, and you just haven’t because he’s not worth the effort. But something changed though,” Stark pointed out. “There’s some reason why you’re more worried now than you were when he tried to clap you in _magic-suppressing irons_ , fuck—”

“It is nothing, really,” Loki said again, but he could not hold strong against Stark’s stern glare, and found himself explaining, his eyes resting on his mug as he twisted it in his hands. “I was on Alfheim earlier today. I often visit the other realms, but I keep a home here on Midgard.” He continued on from there quickly, not wanting to have to explain _why_ he had recently chosen to reside on Midgard when he had only visited the place for sporadic battles with his brother in the past. “I was alerted to the fact that my wards had been tampered with, and when I returned, it was to find that the… intruder had been Doom.”

Starks clouded gaze was suddenly awash with realisation and anger. “I’m not going to make you go back,” he said immediately, and while it was a surprise the shock was overruled instantly as Loki’s body sagged with relief. “Fuck, the guy found where you live?”

“He did not get through the wards,” Loki assured him. “But the thought of it is still…”

“Yeah,” Stark said. “I can understand that.”

“I’m not afraid of him,” Loki said again, wanting to be sure that point was across. “It is merely—”

“Creepy,” Stark said, nodding his head once. “Not only that, it’s downright _gross_. I really mean it. If you don’t have anywhere else to go… you can stay here for today. JARVIS will let you know where everything is, and you’re welcome to whatever I have in the fridge, if there’s anything there at all—”

“There is leftover Thai food, Sir,” JARVIS interrupted. “As well as a few essentials.”

“There you go, you’re welcome to that for lunch,” Stark continued, barely missing a stride at the interruption. Loki was glad for it though, because he knew it meant that he had JARVIS’ approval as well, though he still wasn’t sure how he had earned it. He was following Stark’s train of thought with wide eyes, feeling a little thrown by the sudden change.

“I can stay?” he checked.

“I just said that, didn’t I?” Stark confirmed. Then he glanced to his watch. “Oh, _shit_ , I should have left ages ago– I’m going to have go about, right now.” But even as he hurried to leave, he gave Loki one last stern assurance. “ _Stay_. I mean it.”

It didn’t even sound like an offer any more, though nor was it a command– it was a _request,_ and that left a warm feeling in Loki’s chest even through the confusion.

Stark left his mug in the sink before disappearing back the way he had first emerged, and Loki was left to his own devices. He had finished his tea, and while he did consider simply leaving it as Stark had done, it did not feel mannerly. So he cleaned it with his seiðr, and replaced it back in the cupboard he remembered Stark retrieving it from.

That left him with nothing to do, and he glanced around the room with a touch of awkwardness.

It was a spacious area, incredibly open and made to feel more so by the floor to ceiling windows that displayed a panoramic view of the city. The different levels also made it feel like more than just the one room, splitting it into sections pleasurably, offering a sense of organisation without taking away from the openness.

Loki moved to the area with several comfortable looking couches, and sat back down on the one he had used earlier in the morning. He was about to pull out one of his books when he noticed a StarkPad on the coffee table.

“JARVIS?” Loki asked.

“Yes, Mr Liesmith?”

“Would I be able to….”

“You are more than welcome.”

It was that word again, the one that both calmed and itched all at the same time, and yet it made Loki smile.

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

The StarkPad unlocked at Loki’s gentle touch, and he began to simply peruse the internet, looking through the news, especially relishing in the mentions of the trouble he and Stark had recently caused.

Stark returned a few minutes later wearing a sharp suit, and he offered Loki a grin when he spotted him back on the couch. “I’ll see you later,” he said, and he waved over his shoulder as he stepped into the elevator.

Loki stared after him, the disbelief _still_ running rampant. With one simple phrase, Stark had confirmed the length of Loki’s stay– he was welcome all day, he would not be expected to leave before Stark returned.

He had spent so long not expecting _anything_ from Stark, and now he was not only welcome in the man’s home – at least for now – but was also being trusted to stay without Stark himself. And yes, the ever-vigilant AI was there to keep an eye, but it was still so much more than Loki had ever _dreamed_ to hope for since he had first accepted that Stark would not want him.

It was not what he yearned for, but it was more than he had ever believed that he would be able to have– and in the depths of his mind, Loki knew that was a dangerous thing.

But the tiny taste of the mere _chance_ of more was as addictive as the man himself, and Loki couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander. So he settled back into the couch with the StarkPad clutched to his chest like a prize and a smile curling at the edges of his lips, wistfully fantasising on what it might be like to have the right to relax in Stark’s home whenever he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter is on tumblr [here.](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/184692156923/continuing-from-last-week-heres-the-art-for)


	3. Step Gently

It was only meant to be a short-term thing.

Well, okay. It wasn’t meant to have really been a _thing_ at all, since Loki had only arrived at Stark Tower initially because he’d had nowhere else to go. But he had only meant to stay long enough to regain his wits, and then he would be off and things would return to the balance that he and Stark had managed to perfect over the past several months.

But when Stark had returned from his business with SI on the floors below, he had ordered dinner for them both and asked Loki how _long_ he was planning on staying, as if there were some option to extend his stay.

Loki said that he would be able to live in his small cottage on Alfheim for the time being – carefully sidestepping the fact that he had yet to obtain ownership of such a cottage, but he remained certain that it would not be difficult.

Stark had then demanded that Loki return to let him know once he had somewhere to live, so of course Loki did so. He was surprised on that second visit that Stark invited him for a meal again, and their discussion had been both casual and buoyant, a conversation between _friends_ more than anything else.

After that, they met on the battlefield a few days later, yet another result of Loki’s ever-growing desire to see Stark again. They bickered and laughed all the way through their war to see who could keep their flag atop the Statue of Liberty the longest, only to turn around and team up when the Avengers appeared to make them stop. Rogers had seemed mostly confused by their antics, asking them questions like _why—_

“Because it’s _fun_ , spangles! I’m sure you’ve experienced that at least once in your sad and exhausting life,” Iron Man had taunted—

While Barton and Romanoff had appeared almost amused. They had been somewhat easier to evade than usual, and Loki found himself laughing more than he had in weeks.

And then, as if to make the moment more perfect, Iron Man invited him back for a drink, apparently not remembering that he had still been mostly pretending that he and Anthony Stark were entirely different people.

It was another open door, an olive branch to bring their acquaintanceship solidly toward what even Loki would label as a friendship. And before Loki knew it, he was showing up to Stark Tower uninvited and just because, receiving nothing but warm greetings and smiles, never a demand to know why he was there or a push for him to go.

Even one day, when Loki arrived to find Stark in a foul mood, the inventor had not pushed him away as Loki expected. Instead, they had sat in a comfortable silence for a while, until Loki had gingerly asked if there was anything he could do– and Stark had begun to rant about the demands he was being placed under, the ridiculous number of projects so many different people wanted him to shove into a minimal number of hours.

Loki had simply listened, nodding and commiserating, and offering support where he could. And afterwards, when Stark had smiled at him gratefully, Loki went to the kitchen to fetch some hot chocolate and they had spent the evening devising ridiculous and over-the-top plans to get revenge on every single person who had tried to push Stark to the point of exhaustion.

(Loki may have even initiated a few improved versions of them– and witnessing many of the SI board members finding fully grown sunflowers blooming from their keyboards or finding their car plastered in bright yellow wasps was a thing of beauty.)

Then there was the night that Stark insisted that the fact Loki hadn’t seen some movie involving a man in a mask was a ‘travesty that needed to be rectified immediately’ (and, fine, Loki _did_ find the destruction of the government building at the end to be a rather pleasing scene). But the film was long, and they both fell asleep on the couch.

Loki had woken to Anthony’s head on his shoulder, and he had been _so_ reluctant to move– but then Anthony had woken not long after and demanded they move to a bed because _my back, Lokes, fuck, I’m not as young as I used to be_.

The words had initially sent a certain thrill of _hope_ rushing through him despite knowing that it could not be true, but– realising that Anthony had meant to gift him a room of his own almost felt… _better,_ somehow.

And then, slowly, slowly, Loki’s things began to spread through the place.

There was a box of tea that lived on the counter– good, expensive stuff, not the generic keep-in-the-cupboard-in-case-of-guests packet of tea bags that Anthony had used on Loki’s first visit. Loki’s horned helmet had a place of its own on one of the dining chairs that never got used, and there were large, leather bound tomes scattered through the living room, left where Loki had dropped them after consulting them for some pertinent information or had found a spell that he needed to attempt right in that very moment.

He even began to leave clothes in his room rather than tucking them away into his pocket dimensions every morning, and when he thought of _home…_ it was tall windows and warm brown eyes that came to mind, not golden halls or green hangings.

Somehow, before he even realised it, Loki had moved into Stark Tower.

It wasn’t something that they’d talked about, or that they had come to an agreement upon. It had just happened, and Loki found he liked that it had happened naturally. Or, well. As naturally as it could have, considering the fact that the inciting incident was Victor von Doom invading Loki’s privacy one too many times.

Loki was more grateful than he could ever say, finding it difficult to put into words– especially when every feeling surrounding Anthony was so much more than he would ever admit.

It was more than time for Loki to do something nice for the man who had opened up his home to him purely because he needed a place to stay and with nothing in return other than Loki’s company. But there were other ways to show gratitude, and Loki was struck with an idea one late afternoon. Anthony had announced some time before that he was going to go and try to get some work done, so there was no better time to prepare a surprise.

“JARVIS,” Loki asked tentatively as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, the StarkPad that he had long since claimed as his own held lightly in his hands. “What are some things that Anthony likes to eat?”

JARVIS paused as if he wasn’t sure what to say, or perhaps that he didn’t know what to make of Loki’s question.

“I swear that I am not trying to poison him, if that helps you make your decision as to whether you should answer,” Loki said, laughing nervously.

“I did not think that you would,” JARVIS finally replied, his own voice laced with amusement. “However, I would warn you that Mr Stark is currently busy, so if you are planning on obtaining food—”

“I know that he is,” Loki cut in. “But the food will take time to prepare, will it not?”

“You are… going to _make_ something?”

Loki was about to answer in the affirmative– because making something by hand was a greater gesture than ordering in, surely. But then he remembered the molten lumps of ‘cake’ that he had once tried to serve his mother, and immediately decided against the idea. He could cook what the Einherjar had taught him on hunting trips, chunks of meat and stew, but whenever he had asked to learn more, he had been told that the skill was unnecessary for a boy of his standing.

Perhaps that was something he could learn another time, but a meal prepared for Stark was not the proper moment for experimentation.

“Very well,” Loki sighed. “JARVIS, what take-out does Anthony like?”

“I shall place an order for some pizza,” JARVIS said amusedly. “But are you sure that you do not wish to wait for Mr Stark to—”

“No, order it, please JARVIS,” Loki replied. “Except… do not use Anthony’s information to pay for it. I have my own money.”

He did not have _much_ , but what Anthony had said that day at the Roxxon factory was indeed correct– villainy paid well enough. He had not opened a bank account, but he _had_ used his seiðr to create a passable version of one of those plastic cards that Midgardians liked to use to make transactions. It allowed him to collect items for his home and buy food, enough for him to survive without suspicion or undue exertion of his seiðr. Even though he knew Anthony had far more than he did, he would rather do this himself than feed Anthony gratitude with the man’s own money. Not only would that be pushing the hospitality too far, it was just plain rude, and would disrupt the entire purpose of this venture.

“I am sure that Mr Stark will appreciate it,” JARVIS said. And there was still that touch of hesitation in his voice, but the words themselves were warm and true.

Loki wondered why JARVIS was worried. The AI seemed to approve of his being in the Tower – since Loki knew that he would _know_ if JARVIS didn’t – so this could not be suspicion over Loki trying to put something in Anthony’s food.

He thought about simply leaving it, ignoring the problem and hoping that JARVIS would sort it out himself. But he did not like the thought of a misunderstanding, and so he drew in a breath and made himself _ask_.

“What is it?”

“Mr Stark may be busy for some hours,” JARVIS replied. “I simply do not wish for you to do this, and only to be disappointed.”

Loki blinked. JARVIS was hesitating because… he cared?

The strangest thing about it was that this was not something that would have hurt Loki– he knew better than to be wounded by the fact that Anthony could become engrossed in his work, because that was simply a part of who Anthony was. JARVIS knew that– so this wasn’t even JARVIS trying to stop Loki from getting _hurt—_

This truly was JARVIS just not wanting Loki to be _disappointed_.

And Loki... wasn’t used to having someone who cared enough about such a simple thing.

“It does not matter, JARVIS,” Loki replied warmly. “I will be able to keep the food warm, and I can wait as long as is needed. Time is not an issue for me.”

“Very well,” JARVIS said. “Then I shall place that order, with Mr Stark’s favourites. Is there anything that you would like me to add?”

They spent a few minutes discussing options, and Loki quite enjoyed JARVIS’ attempts to describe the toppings Loki had never tasted when, of course, JARVIS had not tasted them himself. Then Loki gave JARVIS the details for payment, and went to find something to do in the meantime, fishing plates out of the drawers in the kitchen and fetching glasses so that they they might enjoy a drink together.

When the pizzas came, Loki shifted his skin to appear as an ordinary mortal, entirely nondescript. After all, it would not do to have a pizza delivery person spouting rumours that Loki of Asgard was ordering food to Stark Tower—

Although…

 _Hmm_. The potential for mischief there was relatively high.

He filed the idea away for later and placed a ward around the pizzas to keep them hot and fresh before settling down on the couch to wait.

Now, most of Midgardian inventions were inferior to Asgardian technology, having fallen behind in the slow march of time. But if there was one thing that Loki loved on Midgard more than upon his old realm (aside from the company, of course), it was their ability to think of new ways to entertain themselves. Asgardians liked war and drinking, they liked stories and legends that touted their own magnificence.

But Midgardians, in contrast, had this marvellous thing called Netflix, and it surpassed Asgardian sagas by _leagues_.

Anthony had taught Loki how to use it, and had suggested a few of the shows that he thought Loki might enjoy before unleashing him on the service to watch what he wished to his heart’s content.

Loki chose the show that he had started some days earlier and settled down to enjoy it, but– he hardly noticed the story on the television, only the few lines of dialogue and the sounds of action scenes sinking through his musings. His mind was caught on all the possibilities of what was about to happen, of what could go wrong.

He tried to quiet the thoughts but they would not calm, and his hands twisted in his lap and he chewed his lower lip, almost breaking the skin.

The reaction was unnecessary, and it once again made him feel like a blushing youngling. And perhaps this was the first time that Loki had found himself _this_ interested in a person, but he should be able to control himself better than that.

This was not even something to be concerned over. He and Anthony had shared plenty of meals during Loki’s time at Stark Tower thus far.

 _Relax_.

It wasn’t like this was a courtship, and it certainly wasn’t intended as a romantic gesture. Loki was merely trying to show his _gratitude_ , that was all, and surely Anthony would not find fault with that?

It wasn’t enough to still his mind entirely, but it did calm him somewhat and allowed him to settle back into the cushions. Time passed too quickly as he began to drift in and out, but JARVIS kept his show going and he kept enough awareness that he knew he would not miss it when Anthony finally returned from his work.

He was eventually roused by a beam of sunlight hitting his face, shining into his half open eyes, and he turned to see that the sun was beginning to peak between the buildings.

“JARVIS?” Loki asked, a little drowsy but still properly aware. “Did Anthony come back?”

“He did not,” the AI replied gently. “I apologise, Mr Liesmith. I did try to warn you that he usually does not surface for quite some time.”

“You did,” Loki groaned, “and I did not listen. There is no need to apologise.”

When JARVIS had said hours, Loki was expecting perhaps two or three. He would not have minded that at all– he had been known to lose himself in projects for longer than that himself. And maybe it should not have worried him so with that in mind, but… the thought that Anthony was _still_ working tugged a little at Loki’s sensibilities, and he pulled himself to his feet.

“Where is he?” Loki asked, preparing to shape change once again so that he would be able to visit Anthony’s office in the lower floors of the Tower. But then—

“He is in his workshop,” JARVIS said, and Loki stopped in his tracks.

The workshop was where Anthony invented, where he worked his own brand of magic and forged marvellous creations that had no match in all of the Nine. Loki knew that it was both Anthony’s favourite place in the Tower, and his most private.

And he wasn't sure, but– Loki strongly suspected that there were things pertinent to Iron Man in that workshop, hidden in code and behind walls and smokescreens to keep them from even the most prying of eyes.

It was not a place that Anthony would want Loki visiting, and despite his curiosity, Loki had never tried to enter before and had no wish to do so now– at least, not until he was _sure_ that he was not unwelcome.

“I can’t,” Loki said. “Anthony would not want me to impose.”

“I believe you should know, Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS said tentatively. “You have been granted access.”

Loki knew what that meant– Anthony was vigilant, and would never have granted access if he did not mean to. That was as much permission as any Loki could have received, and that, coupled with his still raging concern, was enough to quicken his steps toward the elevator.

The workshop was lined with frosted glass walls, making it impossible to see inside– though Loki had no doubt that Anthony would be able to see whoever was standing on the outside of the door.

He knocked, but there was no answer, and he wasn’t sure whether he should knock again or try some other method of communication, such as a message via JARVIS, perhaps. But before he could ponder for too long, he was given his answer.

“You may enter, Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS prompted. “I have unlocked the door.”

It was that welcoming tone again, the same strange tenor of trust that sent a shiver arcing down Loki’s spine. He couldn’t decide whether the feeling was good or uncomfortable, because while the thought of Anthony starting to trust him was a _thrill_ , it was yet another stark reminder of everything he wanted but could not truly have.

Steeling himself, Loki gently pushed the door open and stepped inside slowly, waiting to be shouted at or have something thrown at him to force him out.

“It is fine, Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS said again with impossible patience, clearly noticing all of his misgivings. “If Mr Stark did not want you here, then I would not have allowed you in.”

That got through to him more than even the open door had, because Loki knew without a doubt that JARVIS spoke the truth. He was fiercely protective of his creator—

Which, Loki realised as he took in the scene before him, was probably _why_ JARVIS had encouraged Loki to come down to the workshop in the first place.

Anthony was slumped forward over his desk, a screwdriver hanging from limp fingers, his head resting upon what looked to be a prototype for a mechanical leg, through it was both far more solid and much more flimsy than would have been practical for Iron Man. A prosthetic, then, perhaps? Anthony’s eyes were closed and his breathing was slow, and it seemed that he had fallen asleep in the middle of a project, having worked himself to exhaustion to the point that he didn’t even care to alter his uncomfortable position.

A robot was hovering at Anthony’s side, if one could call it such, for it was made only of a single arm set upon a base with wheels. It was clutching a blanket in its claw, and was attempting to lie it over Anthony’s shoulders– but without the benefit of two hands, the best it could manage was placing the bunched material on top of Anthony’s shoulder blades in a single lump.

“Hello,” Loki said quietly, causing the bot’s claw to let go of the blanket and stare up at Loki in what could only be surprise. “What’s your name?”

The bot chirped, but it did not speak– and in the end it was JARVIS who responded.

“That’s DUM-E,” JARVIS said. “He is a helper bot, and he is the oldest of us.”

“Us?” Another chirp caught his attention, and he turned to see a robot of similar shape to DUM-E standing on the other side of the workshop, a lumpy pillow in its claw that it had clearly taken from the old couch behind him.

“That’s U,” JARVIS explained. “He is DUM-E’s brother. They both help Mr Stark in the workshop.”

Loki doubted that Anthony had been sleeping for long if the bots had only just begun to try and make him comfortable, at least as best as they could. That was good– it meant that Anthony had probably not hurt himself in that position.

But he would if he stayed there much longer, and Loki found himself stepping forward.

“Do you think he would mind…?” Loki asked, his hands hovering over Anthony’s shoulders but not quite touching.

“I think that he would be grateful,” JARVIS replied.

That was enough for Loki, but his hands remained hesitant as he gently pulled Anthony up into a sitting position.

Anthony stirred. “Wha… ‘E?”

DUM-E chirped again, and Anthony’s eyes opened slowly, blinking their way to half-mast as his gaze landed on Loki’s hand. He frowned for a moment, before looking up to Loki’s face in confusion.

“Lo’?”

“It’s all right, Anthony,” Loki soothed. “You need your rest.”

Anthony’s eyes fluttered closed again, and although he was not yet properly sleeping Loki knew it would not take him long to get there– and he certainly wasn’t capable of walking himself.

Loki considered the couch for a moment, but he could see that it was a little old and ratty, and although Anthony had probably spent many a night upon it, Loki wanted to use the chance to give him a better night’s sleep– or day’s, as the case might be.

“Come on,” Loki sighed, bending down and wrapping one of Anthony’s arms around his own shoulders. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Anthony grumbled as Loki pulled him up, and he pressed against Loki’s side, his other arm coming to rest across Loki’s waist.

Loki had to pause a moment, but he took a fortifying breath and steadied Anthony as best he could before making his way to the elevator.

DUM-E chirped again as they left, but made no move to stop them, and so Loki offered the bot a small smile as he made their way to the elevator.

It might have been easier to simply skywalk, but Loki remembered how Anthony had reacted to that the first time. He knew it would be disorientating, and that it might pull Anthony from the little slumber he had managed to gain. The trip on foot would be a bit longer than using seiðr, but it would be more comfortable for Anthony, and that was what Loki was most concerned with. So he made the difficult walk, and was thankful when JARVIS closed the doors of the elevator and took them to the proper floor without needing to be asked.

Anthony slumped even more as they stood still, his hand curling into Loki’s shirt, his head pressing into Loki’s shoulder. It took more self-control than Loki believed he had not to turn his head and press his lips to Anthony’s hair, and he was almost glad when the doors slid open once more to reveal the penthouse.

JARVIS guided Loki to Anthony’s door with quiet words, and it was only a matter of minutes before Loki was gently placing Anthony on his bed. Loki eyed Anthony’s clothes, and used his seiðr to remove Anthony’s shoes and transform his jeans into a material that was far softer. He knew that he should probably leave, but he paused on the edge of the mattress, a gently lifting the corners of his lips at the sight before him.

Anthony looked so very young, lying there with his eyes closed and his expression more peaceful than Loki had ever seen it in wakefulness. Anthony was always thinking, his mind never giving the rest of him a break– but it would seem that in slumber, Anthony was finally able to relax, and the sight of it was almost captivating.

Yet that was not the only reason why Loki could not look away– he was caught in the moment, caught pondering just exactly what this meant. Because Anthony had not just trusted Loki to enter his workshop– he had trusted him enough to remain sleeping in his presence, to allow Loki to see him in this vulnerable state.

Loki could not help the hand that reached out, his fingers threading through Anthony’s soft hair. Anthony hummed and leaned unconsciously into to the touch, and it warmed Loki all the way through, hitching his breath and quickening his heart. He could almost imagine that this was something that Anthony might want, could almost picture what it might be like to have this for his own.

Anthony was calm and _happy_ , and Loki leaned down and pressed his lips to Anthony’s forehead in a soft, stolen kiss.

The feel of his lips on Anthony’s skin was perfection, a single moment where everything in the world just felt _right_ , happiness surging through him at finally reaching out for what he had wanted for so long—

What _he_ had wanted, but… not Anthony.

The moment he realised what he’d done, Loki pulled away immediately and forced himself to the other side of the room, his heart still beating too fast but in a painful way now, and his breaths shallow with horror at what he had just done.

He _knew_ that Anthony did not desire him in that way, that even if Anthony wished for a friendship, he did not and never would wish for a romantic entanglement with _Loki_.

And yet Loki had just kissed him anyway, just _taking_ without any care, thinking only of his own desires and giving Anthony’s own wishes no consideration. He was– he was no better than _Doom_ , invading Anthony’s privacy and trying to take what he had no permission to have.

The thought made him feel sick with guilt, and he tore his gaze from Anthony and pulled himself through the fabric of the world, lurching through space until he was on his own bed. He pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his forehead into them, trying to hold himself together.

“Mr Liesmith,” JARVIS started, and the sound that pulled from Loki’s throat was something close to a low whine as he pieced together exactly what would happen next.

JARVIS would no doubt tell Anthony what had happened, and Anthony would force Loki from the Tower. And… maybe that was a good thing.

Anthony deserved so much better than what Loki had to give.

Loki did not know when he started to shake, only that his arms were trembling as they clutched at his knees, and his breaths began to come in quick gasps. It should not have bothered him so– there was no reason to be upset, because he had known from the beginning that these attempts to try and encourage Anthony to like him would fall flat.

He should not have been surprised that Anthony still did not want him, when Anthony could have whomever he wished.

“There is no need to be concerned,” JARVIS said, his voice soft even if it was a little confused. “There is… Mr Stark will appreciate this, as I told you before.”

Despite his agony, JARVIS’ confused tone caused Loki to wonder whether the AI found him as confusing as Loki found mortals.

The thought actually… helped a little, because Loki knew that the AI was inherently a _logical_ being, and if he could not understand Loki’s reaction, then perhaps… there was a chance that Loki had _over_ reacted, just a little.

“You do not think he will be angry with me?” Loki asked, lifting his head just enough to stare at the wall. “You don’t think that he will…”

“I think that Mr Stark will be grateful for the care you have shown him tonight,” JARVIS said. Then he paused for a moment, before adding, “And he does not need to know. He shall not hear what happened from me, if you do not wish it.”

“You’re a good friend, JARVIS,” Loki said, his voice a little thick. “Thank you.”

“I try to be,” JARVIS agreed. “And for what it is worth, I believe that you are a good friend to Mr Stark as well. He has been… lighter, these past few weeks.”

Loki didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply shook his head and kept his gaze on his knees.

“He does care for you,” JARVIS said. “You must remember that.”

The insistence was a little odd, because Loki could not pinpoint the cause of it. But he heard the earnest honesty in the words, and he knew – for the state of his own heart, if for nothing else – that there was only one answer he could give.

“I shall try.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask,” JARVIS said. “But now, I believe you should get some rest as well.”

Knowing that JARVIS was right, Loki forced himself up to prepare for bed before collapsing atop his covers, thanking JARVIS in a muffled mutter when the sunlight streaming through the windows was muted by a dark tint.

And later that afternoon, Loki was woken by Anthony knocking on his door with a plate full of still-fresh pizza, a bright grin, and an offer to watch a movie. Loki had nodded straight away with a thankful smile, and had followed him back into the living room.

What JARVIS had said was right.

Anthony did seem light, like he was flying on something– but there was still a little touch of unease around the edges, and Loki noticed it even through his near overwhelming sense of guilt. And yet, throughout the afternoon he smiled with gratitude and spoke to Loki with just as much affection as always– the affection that one would give to a good friend.

Loki had thought that he could live with this, that he could reach out and hold on to whatever came in his direction and be grateful for any time with Anthony, because being at Anthony’s side was better than not being able to spend any time with him at all. He had thought that loving from a distance was difficult, but being able to know Anthony so well now that he could _picture_ what more would be like just made everything that much harder.

The taste of what he could have had in a happier world left him in agony, and yet, Loki knew that he would never be able to make himself leave. He was addicted to the pain that Anthony made him feel, and he knew he was in so deep that he would stay until it had torn him apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kasumi's art for this chapter is on tumblr [here.](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/184876127523/art-for-chapter-3-of-it-lies-behind-stars-by)


	4. All That We Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience on this one guys! There is a chance that there might be more art for this chapter in the future. I hope you enjoy it!

Living in Stark Tower was almost like something out of a dream, were it not for the fact that Anthony never stopped appearing to be slightly uneasy. They continued to spend near every waking moment together, and certainly every moment that Anthony did not need to be downstairs doing work for SI. They worked side by side, they leaned together on the couch, and when they weren’t ordering in they made meals as a team in the kitchen. It was a bliss that Loki had never thought to hope for, and yet…

Anthony would sometimes flinch away from Loki’s touch, or would return from fetching a snack or going to the bathroom and position himself further from Loki than he had been when he left. It hurt, because Loki didn’t know what he was doing wrong, and he didn’t know how to make it better.

And to make it somehow _worse_ , it usually happened during the softer moments, when Loki was feeling warm and safe and _comfortable_ , when he began to think that maybe Anthony was feeling just as content as he. But then smiles would freeze, affectionate glances would falter, hands would pull away, and the illusion of perfect happiness would shatter.

It almost seemed like Anthony did not want Loki to get close, and yet… no effort was made to stay away from each other.

Never once did Anthony comment on the fact that Loki seemed to have moved into his home, that they were spending every moment together that they could– though that was generally with Loki’s instigation.

Oh, and it was beyond _difficult_ , stretching toward being one of the most emotionally painful experiences of Loki’s long life. Loki felt like he was mere inches from what he yearned for, right on the edge of the precipice. Surely, if only he could find what was wrong, if only he could discover what it was that Anthony needed, then things might start to change.

But nothing ever did, and the bliss soon turned to agony as Loki lived every moment with happiness in sight, but just a fraction out of reach. So it was that Loki spent his days wondering how long it would take for him to snap, and for the delicate balance he had created to come crashing down around his ears.

It was the dead pigeon that did it in the end, signalling the beginning of the fall.

A single dead pigeon lying on its back in the middle of the roof, its legs sticking up straight into the air and its wings splayed outwards across the ground. Actually, it looked remarkably healthy for a bird that had crash landed on the roof of the Tower– save the fact that it was dead, of course.

They had been alerted to a disturbance by JARVIS, and had headed up immediately– Loki in a disguise and Anthony without his suit, of course, since they were both all too aware of the many cameras that conspiracy theorists had pointed at Stark Tower.

(They’d had plenty of fun feeding some of the more ridiculous theories, after all. Loki’s favourite was still the one where Anthony was an alien from space who had come down to make money on out-of-this-world technology that would be common place on his ‘home planet’, and the light show and ‘UFO landing’ that Loki had put on in a fit of boredom during the wee hours of one morning was one of the more entertaining tricks he had played since his time on Midgard had started.)

But considering that JARVIS had been worried enough to warn them, arriving on the roof to learn that the disturbance was merely a dead bird was odd enough to be unsettling.

“Maybe it just jostled a sensor when it came down?” Anthony suggested, though he seemed equally uneasy.

“But what did it hit?” Loki asked. “You do not have a forcefield—”

“Not a physical one, anyway,” Anthony cut in.

“Exactly. And my own wards only physically keep out those with hostile intentions.” Loki narrowed his eyes. “That leaves only the one probability.”

“Hang on,” Anthony said weakly. “You put up wards?”

Loki was glad that his own words gave him the perfect excuse to ignore that. He moved closer and bent over the pigeon, tilting his head and poking at the bird with his seiðr– and in only half an instant, his suspicions were confirmed.

“What is it?” Anthony said, his expression now pinched– no doubt at the thought of examining a dead animal so closely.

“Look,” Loki said. He knelt down beside the bird to lift its wing, showing Anthony how it glinted in the sunlight. “It’s not dead,” he said. “It’s simply deactivated.”

Anthony’s eyes widened in immediate understanding, and he strode forward to kneel beside Loki and examine the robotic creature with his own eyes.

“That’s some interesting craftsmanship,” he said. “Steampunk.” Then he paused, and looked to Loki in concern. “What does this mean, exactly? You seem to recognise it.”

Loki most certainly had, though it was more the aura surrounding the bird than the workmanship on the bird’s body. It had been powered with magic, and that was as much a signature of its maker than the tenor of the magic itself.

Loki swallowed hard, and could not stop himself from glancing into the sky to try and see if he could spot any trace of more metallic birds.

“It means that he knows where I am,” Loki said.

The bird must have been sent as a spy, to see what Loki was doing in Stark Tower, or perhaps to test the defences. It had run foul of Anthony’s anti-magic shielding and had lost all power, falling to the ground with no life left in it.

The rage that coursed through Loki was unparalleled. He knew that he could not just ignore _this_ , and he was _done_ with simply hiding away. Victor von Doom was an annoyance, but nothing more than that. Loki could and _would_ squish him like a bug, pressing him beneath the heel of his boot until he begged for mercy– and then, in that moment, Loki would press down just a little more.

The monarch of Latveria had come to his end, and Loki would _enjoy_ being the one to deliver it.

“I’m going to go out,” Loki said stiffly, rising to his feet and donning his armour with a simple push of his seiðr. “Don’t wait up for me, I shall not be long.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Anthony said, raising his hands toward Loki in a gesture that was clearly meant to be placating. “Don’t just run off– come on, talk to me. What is this, a robot?”

“A _Doombot_ ,” Loki spat, and he saw from the clarity in his expression that Anthony understood immediately. “He knows that I am here which means—”

“That he’s coming for you,” Anthony said worriedly.

Of course, Loki didn’t care that Doom was coming for _him_ , not when there was now even more at stake than before. He only cared about the possibility of Anthony getting caught in the crossfire—

A fear that, of course, only grew worse when Anthony looked up and said—

“Well, fuck that. Give me five minutes, I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Loki snapped instantly. “I won’t let you—”

“With all due respect, Loki, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I can do this by myself—”

“I know,” Anthony said. “But you don’t have to. I mean, you’ve been helping me track down old weapons, take out Roxxon, and keep the people of New York entertained—”

“My reasons for that are selfish,” Loki muttered, and Anthony sighed.

“You should give yourself a little more credit,” he said lightly. “You’re far kinder than you believe.”

It was a simple thing to say, and yet it cut through Loki’s simmering anger and left him feeling stunned. It was difficult to keep his own emotions in check, when Anthony continued to say things like—

“You’re my friend, Loki. I care about you.”

Loki’s heart was beating so fast against his ribs that he almost missed Anthony’s next words.

“I’m not going to let you face this alone, okay? I’m going to stick with you like glue, and we’re going to show Doom and the rest of the world that if they mess with one of us, then they’re going to end up provoking both.”

Loki had words to say, he could feel them caught in his throat, but he could not seem to give them voice. He was stuck, staring at Anthony with his mouth agape, no doubt doing a rather impressive impression of a goldfish but otherwise not doing himself any favours in regard to his appearance.

“Why?” he managed to croak.

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you… _how_ can you say such things? You don’t… I’m not...”

“Come on,” Anthony said, his smile almost sad as he tugged at the sleeve of Loki’s coat and led the way back inside. “If we’re going after Doom in the next five minutes, I need to change my clothes. And probably grab a snack, as well.”

Despite his lingering rage at Doom, everything seemed a little soft as JARVIS took them down in the elevator, but the silence remained comfortable even though they were standing close enough that they leaned together for a moment as the elevator slid to a stop.

The entire time, Loki was hyper-aware of the fact that Anthony had not let go of his grip on Loki’s sleeve.

When they entered the workshop, they were met with a series of excited chirps– though it wasn’t Anthony that the bot charged forward to meet. It nudged at Loki’s free arm, and Loki chuckled fondly.

“Hello, DUM-E,” he greeted, running his hand over the bot’s claw. DUM-E chirped happily in response, pressing his claw into the touch as if he could feel it.

There was a light tug on Loki’s sleeve.

“You know DUM-E?” Anthony asked.

“We’ve met,” Loki admitted. “He helped me get you into bed once.”

Understanding coloured Anthony’s expression with a gentle smile. He waited for Loki to pet DUM-E a few more times, and then gestured for him to follow.

Loki did so with growing curiosity, for he had been expecting to be left to entertain himself while Anthony fetched a suit from whichever cranny he kept them locked inside. He had certainly _not_ been expecting Anthony to remain holding onto him as he went toward the wall and opened up a secret panel. Loki never would have noticed it if it had not been shown to him, so seamlessly was it hidden. And it was clear that the security was tighter here than _anywhere_ else in the Tower, for even with JARVIS there, Anthony manually tapped in a code.

The wall slid open to reveal a set of stairs, leading down to a level that was a bit in-between– for it must have been cleverly concealed between the workshop and the floor below. The ceilings were a little lower than Anthony usually liked, and Loki assumed that comfort had been put aside in the name of perfect secrecy.

Lining the walls were small alcoves, and inside each one was a metal armour, most of which were the familiar red and gold. But despite the other, newer, _flashier_ models, the one that drew Loki in the most was clunky and matte grey, and it looked like it had been pieced together with scraps from whatever Anthony had been able to find. Loki approached it slowly, almost feeling awed as he allowed his gaze to pass over every damaged piece of metal.

“Yeah,” Anthony said from behind him. “That was the first one. That’s the one I used to escape from Afghanistan. I found it in the basement of the old SI headquarters after… after the explosion, and I couldn’t just leave it there.”

It was a mess, completely and utterly– uglier than any of the others, and yet, as he considered it, Loki found a certain beauty in the hard edges of the comparatively simple design. Because whatever it looked like, this patchwork of steel and determination had saved Anthony’s life.

Created of his genius and forged in the fire of his force of will, it had been just enough to get him out of a living hell.

Loki lifted a hand, wanting to touch—

But he paused. After all, this was not only one of Anthony’s suits, it was the _first_ , and Anthony had only just admitted that it held special value.

Loki was so caught up in the wonder that he hadn’t truly yet taken the time to examine the fact that Anthony was letting Loki _see_ the workshop, was showing him his most closely guarded secrets– and he knew how momentous this was.

He couldn’t help but wonder whether Anthony had let anyone in this part of his workshop before– oh, he knew that Anthony was close to both Pepper Potts and James Rhodes, knew that they _knew_ about Iron Man. But somehow, he doubted it regardless– because while Potts and Rhodes knew the truth, Loki had also come to understand that they _worried_. Knowing Anthony, he liked to keep the finer details of what he was doing from them to spare their concerns– for example, he knew that Anthony had not told them about Loki from the way he went quiet whenever Loki asked him about them. And while that hurt, Loki understood. He wasn’t… exactly the sort of person that someone would want to introduce as a friend.

Yet, the fact that Anthony was trusting him with _this_ made Loki feel special in a way that only Anthony could, in a way that Anthony seemed to be managing more and more often.

Sometimes, occasionally, there were _rare moments_ when Loki began to wonder whether Anthony was beginning to return his affections.

He had spent so long watching Iron Man from afar, so sure that he was disliked, but now that they had actually spent time together, Loki was beginning to wonder if maybe… maybe there was a _chance_.

He was still standing before the original armour, his hand half raised, when he felt Anthony coming to stand close beside him.

Anthony caught Loki’s wrist in his hand, his fingers curling over bare skin, and Loki had to force himself to hold still as Anthony guided his hand to rest on the suit’s arm. Then, rather than letting go, Anthony’s hand slid down to press over Loki’s, their fingers slotting together in a way that sent a surge of _something_ running up Loki’s whole arm. Loki found himself staring at their hands for a few moments, the image burned into his mind– and then he turned to Anthony with a question written all over his face.

And Anthony gave him a small nod, his hand falling away– though he did not step back. Feeling a small sense of loss, Loki let his fingers trail over the cold metal, over the lines where the pieces had been welded together and the dents that could not be anything other than bullet holes.

“I admit, I do have a soft spot for that one,” Anthony said, his voice a little thick. “But I think I’m going to need something a little more durable– and a little more adaptable for today.”

Loki turned away from the armour to watch enraptured as Anthony spread his hands and stepped back into the armour, the suit swallowing him whole. It was the first time he had witnessed it– this change from Stark to Iron Man– though he had known that they were one and the same before, it meant _more_ now. Because before, he had merely discovered the truth, but now… he was being trusted with it.

Then Iron Man’s familiar, tinny voice sounded from underneath his helmet. “Are you ready?”

Loki would be sad to leave the workshop, but at the thought of what they were about to do, his fire returned in full force and his lips pulled up into a vicious smile as he said, “Of course.”

It was the first time that Loki and Anthony had actually _planned_ to work together, had _started_ a mission with the intention of seeing it through as a team. Sure, on previous occasions they had interrupted the other or kickstarted a truly ludicrous plot with the intention of drawing the other out, but never had they left their place of comfort and headed toward a fight _together_.

But, of course, planning for the both of them meant that even working out their method of transport required a conversation. Anthony said that he normally flew, that he had an exit through the Tower and a stealth system that allowed him to leave undetected. But Loki’s method was faster, more efficient, _and_ it provided more of an element of surprise. When he began to suggest that, though, Anthony was instantly and immediately against it.

“Whoa, whoa,” Anthony said, his helmet folding away neatly into the rest of the suit so that he could display his affronted expression.. “Last time you did that, we ended up crashing into a road—”

“Last time, you were caught unawares and fought me the whole way,” Loki said. “Now you know what to expect.” He leaned forward on his toes, and raised a brow. “Are you going to fight me?”

“No,” Anthony said, his expression as wickedly excited as Loki’s probably was. “I don’t believe that I am.”

Somehow, despite the fact that Anthony had been answering Loki’s question, Loki couldn’t help but think that there was something more to his words than the literal, and the thoughts that ran through his mind at that made him feel like he could take on the world.

 _He’s_ not _going to fight me._

 _He’s going to fight_ with _me._

“Last time we simply fell through space, and I had very little control,” Loki said, stepping closer. “I’m going to need you to hold on to me.”

“Of course,” Anthony said, his voice soft. “I’ll hold on as long as you need.”

Their gazes met, and this time, Loki was _sure_ that he was not imagining it. There was affection there, perhaps even more than that– and certainly more than mere friendship. Anthony wanted _more_ just as much as Loki did, he was sure of it.

“Right,” Anthony said, tearing his gaze away and snapping his helmet back into place. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Despite how eager Loki had been for a fight less than half an hour earlier, he found that he dreaded the shattering of the moment.

Thankfully though… they had yet to work out exactly _where_ it was that they needed to go.

After yet another short discussion, they decided that there was no need to go to Latveria, as Anthony originally suggested. It was a long way, and it would be best not to fight Doom on his own turf– and besides, Doom was so obsessed with Loki that it would not be difficult to draw him out to a location of their own choosing.

Anthony, of course, then suggested that they take the fight somewhere that did not have many people, or at least an area that could be easily cleared. Loki accepted that without argument– after all, the fight would be far easier to conduct and _win_ if there were no civilians and would-be heroes making things more complicated than necessary.

Which, of course, begged the question of—

“Do we have a contingency for if the Avengers show up?” Loki asked. It was a necessary part of any plot these days, after all, because Rogers and his little band had a nasty habit of showing up where they had not been invited.

“Don’t worry about them,” Anthony said simply. “They’ll keep out of the way.” He seemed so sure that Loki found himself willing to believe it.

Loki supposed that Anthony was banking on the fact that the Avengers would merely wait the fight out, to see who would win between the two factions of villains and then swoop in at the end to pick up the weakened victor. It was what Loki would have done himself– though of course, the Avengers were more aligned with Thor, and far more prone to bouts of ‘honour’ than he was. Where Loki would have allowed two enemies to kill each other for his own gain, the Avengers were more likely to try and stop them from committing murder.

And, actually, Thor might have been a problem as well– he had decided to join the little band of Midgardian heroes, most likely because he was bored, and had taken to interrupting Loki’s plots far more than he had any right to. He was the only member of the team that Loki would really be concerned about – the only other capable of doing real harm would be the Hulk, but his size and tendency to charge only forwards meant that he was easy enough to avoid. Thankfully, though, Thor was currently out in the rest of the Nine, running errands for the Allfather amongst the rebelling colonies.

So they _probably_ didn’t have any heroes to worry about, but they still needed to choose their battleground. The largest, most open space in New York was of course Central Park– but both Loki and Anthony agreed that it had been overused for dramatic battle scenes. And besides, it wasn’t quite dramatic _enough_.

“We need an audience,” Loki listed. “We need to be able to hide and distract, and the mortals must be able to clear out quickly without becoming a danger to themselves.”

Anthony considered that for only half a second before his lips curled up into a grin and he said, “I think I know just the place.”

—•—

True to his word, Anthony held tight to Loki’s hand and followed his every step as they moved between the branches of Yggdrasil, not moving too fast nor too slow, not pulling away. Even though Loki knew he must be fascinated by the blur of colour and the endless opportunities he stayed close, and they made the journey without any difficulty.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the buildings when they appeared above Times Square, and repulsors blazed the moment they began to fall, his arms coming around Loki’s waist to hold them steady in the air.

The position was a little awkward but Loki didn’t mind– it meant that he could concentrate his seiðr on other things, such as weaving a few last minute wards into the metal of Anthony’s armour while the mortal looked for a place to land. He would not see his friend harmed, and especially not at the hands of someone who was chasing after _Loki._

Anthony found a decent rooftop that would serve their needs well, and although Loki was almost reluctant to let go, anticipation curled in his stomach as his boots hit the smooth concrete and the red and gold armour quietly moved away, leaving behind only a tiny little drone that would serve its purpose later.

Thankfully, the bright lights against the darkening sky meant that they were well hidden, just ghosts hiding in the shadows, unnoticed until they _wanted_ to be seen.

Anthony presented himself first, doing loops in the air and diving down toward the crowd, skimming over their heads to thunderous applause. Superheroes and villains were one of New York’s greatest tourist attractions these days, for even if the locals knew well enough to immediately head to shelter when they saw the warning signs of an impending incident, the tourists could always be counted to stay with their smartphones.

“Good evening, Times Square!” Anthony exclaimed, and then, as all the screens around the buildings flickered to display exactly what was happening, he added, “And hello, New York! I am here with a friend of mine, and I have a very important message for someone else entirely. I was hoping that you might be able to help me deliver it.”

Something inside Loki lurched at hearing Anthony call them friends in front of the whole of the _world_ , but he focused and pushed the feeling away.

This was _not_ the time.

“So please, don’t be afraid,” Anthony was continuing. “Keep your cameras on me– unless, of course, you’d like to shine them on my friend.” Anthony gestured up in Loki’s direction, but Loki knew that they still would not yet be able to see him. It wasn’t _time_.

The crowd below was writhing, almost every hand holding a raised phone now, every eye on either a screen or Iron Man himself.

“Thank you,” Anthony said, his tone of voice both sharp and honeyed, a dangerous and alluring combination. “I hope that some of you are live-streaming this. I am, after all.”

The titters of confusion lasted only a moment before the screens flickered once more, and the tiny drone that had detached itself from Anthony’s suit when they’d arrived began to project its footage for all to see. It was dark, with minimal movement— but as the drone shone a light to make the scene easier to see, Anthony spread his arms wide and spoke in a booming voice.

“Doctor Doom, I challenge you,” he announced. “Come and join me, we’ll have a little chat. And look, I even brought some incentive with me.”

“Iron Man,” Loki shouted, his voice echoing through Times Square as his visage was projected onto all of the screens. “This is ridiculous!”

He was trussed up– his hands drooping with the weight of the chains upon them, shackles around his ankles, manacles on his wrists. The metal was etched with runes that Doom would be sure to recognise from his past attempt to restrain Loki’s magic, and the material hanging loosely around Loki’s neck was quite obviously a gag that had fallen out of place.

It was a very pretty illusion, if Loki could say so himself.

“Come to Times Square, Doom,” Anthony said, speaking down to the hundreds of cameras below. “This is your best opportunity. He’s never been so vulnerable.” He paused for a moment, and then Loki could almost hear his grin as he said, “If you want him, come and get him.”

But, of course, that wasn’t something that Loki was just going to let _go_ , and he shouted down over the edge of the roof once again.

“I am not some weak damsel to be won at a fair—”

“Nah, but you are quite the prize,” Anthony said back, his voice carrying over the speakers. His repulsors blazed and he rose up, moving close to where Loki was resting. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this?” he asked quietly, this time so that no one else could hear.

“If I wasn’t, you would have heard about it,” Loki assured him. “I am ready.”

And he _was–_ the moment a spark of Doom’s magic began to form over his rooftop, Loki tugged at his own seiðr and used it to push the forming portal away from him and out over the centre of the square.

Unlike Anthony had been, Doom was not prepared to step out into nothingness, and he flailed in the air as he fell several feet before he was able to steady himself with the power of his own armour.

Loki wrinkled his nose as he watched– Doom’s armour was grey, but despite having been created with far more resources Loki found that he preferred even the look of Anthony’s first suit over Doom’s open eyeholes and rectangular, latticed mouth. And the fact that Doom wore a long, green cape over his metal ensemble was a blasphemy that Loki would _enjoy_ correcting, taking his colour back and forcing Doom to understand exactly _why_ messing with the god of mischief was a mistake that most only ever made the _once_.

“Iron Man,” Doom greeted, his voice cautious but not hostile. “I believe that you have something of Doom’s.”

Loki scoffed. Something of _Doom’s?_

Please.

Doom was simply digging his own grave now, shovelling out the muck but not quite avoiding burying himself with it at the same time.

Anthony seemed to have a similar opinion, if the way that he snorted was any indication.

“Yours?” He asked. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

“You said that you had a prize for Doom,” Doom snarled, his arms uncrossing from his chest and spreading ready at his sides instead.

“I said that I had a _message_ ,” Anthony corrected. “And that if you wanted him, you would have to come and get him.”

“You want a fight,” Doom realised. His hands were swirling green now, preparing to attack, and Loki ached at the sight with the desire to leap down there and protect Anthony from the incoming magical onslaught.

But… not _yet_.

Anthony could handle himself, and they both knew the benefit of surprise.

The Latverian monarch crossed his arms over his chest as he floated before Iron Man, clearly assessing the situation, working out whether he thought he would be able to win. And just as they had hoped, his arrogance and their planning gave him the push of confidence he needed to agree to the challenge.

“Doom will fight you,” the monarch said harshly.

“Good,” Anthony said, his voice carrying through the Square. The mortals below were tittering in excitement, pleased that they were going to be able to witness a fight. But with Doom in the area the mortals had now all served their purpose, and Loki almost giggled as he watched Anthony fire a blast from his repulsors straight down toward the crowd. His aim was impeccable of course, and he hit only one of the street lights, creating a shower of sparks that was more than enough to send them all running.

After all, Anthony had been insistent that they would not hurt any innocents in this venture– it was another reason why their location had been chosen so carefully.

Times Square had many exits, and while it could become incredibly crowded, there were enough streets and subways around that it was possible to clear the whole thing in minutes.

There was… one problem with that though, because unfortunately, it would seem that Anthony had not considered the fact that the majority of the people down there were _tourists_ , and therefore were not completely familiar with the layout of the place.

So below was pandemonium as they hurried to the streets, and Loki had a tiny thought hoping that none of them were crushed in the push– because that would probably upset Anthony later. But despite that, they didn’t hold his attention for long.

That first blast had been enough of an indicator for Doom, and he had taken that as his cue to begin the fight. It started as a simple one on one, with Doom throwing out his magic while Anthony weaved and dodged and shot back at every turn, dancing through the air with agility that was enviable. It was clear that Doom was growing more and more frustrated– his attacks becoming less restrained, tearing into the electric signs all around and bringing down sparks. Then, Doom got a hit in– a magical blast that Anthony did not quite manage to avoid in time, which curled around his armour like a sickness.

Loki held firm on the roof, waiting—

And sure enough, the magic simply dissipated, leaving Iron Man completely unharmed.

A small whisper sounded from the drone doing the filming, though the sound was not amplified like it had been before.

“Hey Lokes, was that you?”

Loki smirked. “Might have been,” he whispered back.

“Thanks.”

Back out above the Square, Doom seemed a little confused. “What is this? You should not be capable of—”

“Your little bird didn’t make it back to you, did it?” Anthony taunted, absolutely nothing of his own confusion evident in his tone. “How do you know that I haven’t figured out how your magic works?”

Doom snarled at that, and then he charged bodily and attacked Iron Man head on. The fight was no longer a dance– it became brutal, Doom’s fists flying and imbued with magic, using it to enhance his physical force now that he had realised magical attacks alone would not work. Anthony might have been ready for it, but that did not mean that he was having an easy time– Loki watched as Anthony _tried_ to get far enough away to use his repulsors, but although he could keep from suffering any real damage he just couldn’t escape, and they were caught in a stalemate that would only end if one of them faltered.

“Loki,” Anthony’s voice hissed in his ear. “A little help?”

“I thought I was yours to win?” He was, of course, only jesting– he never would leave Anthony to face Doom by himself, especially when it was he that Doom was after. But he did enjoy the frustrated curse that Anthony sent his way.

After all, it wouldn’t be long now, Doom was growing increasingly angry—

And the moment that the first Doombot crested over the golden arches of a giant yellow ‘M’ and headed for Anthony was Loki’s cue.

He stood up straight, the illusion falling away as he prepared to go down and attack Doom from behind. But then a metal hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Loki turned to see a Doombot standing beside him, reaching out to grab him properly and take him away.

“No,” Loki said simply, pulling a knife from one of his pocket dimensions and plunging it into the Doombot’s chest in one single, powerful movement.

The blade sliced straight through the Doombot’s magical protection and into its metal heart, cutting off its source of power. The Doombot slumped and Loki vanished just before it exploded into flames and burned itself down to nothing, using his seiðr to hold him steady in the air as he spread his hands and announced his entrance into the fight. He had positioned himself in front of one of the glaring signs, so that he was silhouetted in full view.

“Doom!” he shouted, “Stop fighting with Iron Man. If it is me that you’re after, then _I_ am the one that you are going to have to defeat!”

There was a short flurry and a mess where the Doombots were distracted and Anthony managed to gain the upper hand, preventing himself from being swamped. Then the Doombots split from where they had been converging on Iron Man, some of them heading straight for Loki. He began to knock them down immediately, throwing daggers without a single miss and sending broken Doombots raining down to the ground.

Anthony was battling against three Doombots now, and it seemed that he was struggling to realise which was the real one. Anthony’s technology had impressive sensors, but they were not (at least, not _yet_ ) capable of distinguishing between them when Doom had taken every precaution to ensure that his Doombots all presented as himself.

Anthony’s slight distraction of trying to find the real Doom meant that the bots were starting to get in a few hits, and the moment they landed one they were able to land a few more.

Loki’s expression cut into a snarl, and he dove deep into his seiðr and _shoved—_

One of the Doombots that had peeled away to come for Loki threw up its hands and created a shield, but every other one was pushed away in a wave of pure energy, smashing into walls and windows and falling to pieces under the shockwave.

And Loki smirked.

 _There he is_.

Anthony saw as well, and now that he knew which was which he was free to leave the Doombots to their self-destruct sequence and turn to face Loki, their gazes meeting despite Anthony’s helmet in the way.

The real Doom had been glaring at Loki, and he didn’t see the repulsor blast coming. It knocked him out of the sky and shoved him into the ground, the onslaught not relenting as Anthony put both hands together and gave the attack everything that he had. It was like Anthony was pent up with rage, and was releasing it all through his palms in one terrible, _powerful_ blast.

Anthony did not even relent as his feet hit the ground, and Loki quickly hopped through space to join him, throwing out a blast of his seiðr to match Anthony’s, white and green merging together. By the time they were done, stopping by a silent, mutual agreement, Doom was left lying in a crater of his own making, his arms and legs spread, his cape ripped and smouldering. And although he was breathing, Loki could tell that it was going to be difficult for him to move. Doom’s armour was cracked and smoking slightly, and Loki knew that it was going to need extensive repair before it could properly support him again. Doom would no longer be a threat.

“You are making a mistake, Loki,” Doom gasped, staring at the pair standing over him. “Imagine what we could have done together.”

“He doesn’t need you,” Anthony said, leaning a little closer to Loki and holding out his hand. The gauntlet slid away to reveal bare skin, and the touch was confirmation for them all. Loki and Iron Man were _partners_ now, and, with the scene displayed across all of Times Square, the rest of Midgard knew that, too. Anthony had made sure that the world would see this, and that thought gave Loki more strength than he would ever need.

“I know what you wanted to do to me, Doom,” Loki replied, his tone dangerously sweet. “If you ever even _think_ of trying to steal my power again, you will not receive such mercy.”

“Not from either of us.” Iron Man’s voice was menacing, but as Loki glanced out of the corner of his eye, the sight of that red and gold armour only gave him a certain thrill.

There was no need to restrain Doom any further– he would not be able to move, and with all the fanfare that they had created, Loki knew the human authorities – and most likely SHIELD – would be ready to come and take him to the prison he deserved. At least… for a short while.

(Loki has always thought it a little unfair that Doom received diplomatic immunity as the king of a tiny, insignificant nation when Loki received no such benefits despite being a prince of Asgard _and_ the rightful king of Jotunheim, but then, he needed no so such advantage. He was perfectly capable of keeping himself safe without charity.)

Regardless, there was nothing more to say. They turned from Doom without another glance, and with their hands curled together Loki pulled at his seiðr and brought them home.

—•—

Anthony did not bother with going down to the workshop when they arrived back at the Tower, simply stepping out of the armour and into the living room, instructing JARVIS to pilot it back to where it belonged. He was grinning widely and Loki could not help but match the smile, elated with the joy of victory and the euphoric feeling of being free from Doom’s irritating presence– and the cloying paranoia of always being watched. And maybe Doom would try again, but if he did, Loki had Anthony now to help him deal with it. And he knew that Doom was no match for the two of them when they were fighting side by side.

“We did it,” Anthony said brightly, and his joy was more than a little infectious. “We won!”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “We did.”

Anthony threw himself forward, his arms coming around Loki’s shoulders in a tight hug. In turn, Loki’s arms curled around Anthony’s waist, instinctively pulling him close as he pressed his face tentatively into Anthony’s hair.

The moment started out soft, two friends basking in their victory– but there was something of a thrill in the air between them, the atmosphere charged with emotion. Then Anthony pulled back slightly, to say something perhaps– and his smile was so very bright and his eyes so warm that Loki could _feel_ Anthony’s affection just from looking at him. And whatever Anthony had been about to say was lost, as it seemed that he had finally noticed what Loki had always known.

“ _Oh_ ,” Anthony said, his eyes widening slightly. “Loki, you want...”

“I always have,” Loki whispered– and somehow, in that moment with Anthony in his arms, it was not a difficult thing to admit at all.

Loki’s heart was beating a little too fast, and their faces were mere inches from each other– but he realised that he didn’t feel nervous. It just seemed _right_ , and it was the easiest thing in the world to lean forward and catch Anthony’s lips in a sweet kiss.

For a moment, for a single, blissful moment, everything in the world was exactly as it should be. Anthony’s hands were in Loki’s hair, they were _kissing_ , and then—

There was a shove at Loki’s chest, and Anthony was gone.

Loki’s arms remained outstretched, staring in surprise and hurt.

“Anthony?” he asked, the name a single, harsh whisper across his stinging lips.

“I’m sorry,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

And as Anthony backed up another step, raising his hands as if to ward him further away, Loki felt his heart begin to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter is on tumblr [here.](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/185521125363/art-for-chapter-4-of-it-lies-behind-stars-by)


	5. Shards of Glass

Loki’s heart was shattering, and he was caught up in a whiplash from the sudden change in atmosphere, going from perfection to heartbreak in the space of a single moment. But that didn’t mean that he was blinded by the agony, and he still felt like he knew Anthony better than he knew anyone else. And maybe it was hope, or maybe it was dangerous optimism– but when he saw the difficulty and pain crossing Anthony’s expression, Loki began to wonder if Anthony’s refusal might be something more than just outright rejection.

“You can’t?” Loki asked hesitantly, his voice cracking. “Do you mean that you—”

“I mean that I _can’t,_ ” Anthony said again, the last word so harsh that Loki actually flinched. But he… didn’t quite understand. Oh, he knew that it had been so very long since he had started to feel for Anthony, and he was used to the sting of being rejected. But...

He knew that he had not imagined Anthony kissing him back. The feel of Anthony's lips moving against his own, and of Anthony’s hands raking through his hair, down his sides, and _oh_ , over his skin—

Nothing in Loki’s imagination could have come up with those sensations, nothing could have fabricated such perfect bliss.

Loki _knew_ that Anthony had – at least in that moment – _wanted_ him.

Although, maybe therein lay the problem. Maybe Anthony found Loki attractive – which was, of course, not a difficult thing to do – and maybe he had fallen into the kiss in the hopes that it would lead to something more. More, but with no strings attached.

But Anthony knew how Loki felt– Loki had never tried to _hide_ it, and more likely than not it was _that_ which had pushed him away.

So, Loki did the only thing in that moment that he thought he could cope with.

“I am only offering something casual,” Loki said, trying to sound confident and haughty but unusually unsure of whether he had managed to hit the mark. “I don’t want this to get complicated. Just come to bed with me, Anthony, let us enjoy ourselves, indulge. There is no need for that to turn into something more.”

But Anthony was shaking his head, his eyes pained. “I can’t,” he said again, and Loki was starting to hate those two words. “That’s not what I… that’s not what’s wrong, here.”

“So what is it then?” Loki snapped. “If it is not how I feel, and it is not that you only want sex– is it just me? I am not enough?” He laughed– a harsh, bitter thing that sounded more like the broken caw of a raven than anything even close to amusement. “Well, I suppose I always knew that, but– I had hoped, that maybe… I thought—”

“Loki, no,” Anthony said immediately– and he jerked forward in an odd movement that Loki couldn’t quite decipher, his hand raising slightly only to just fall back down. “Don’t think that. You’re amazing.”

“Then why?” Loki asked, his voice still cracking. “Why don’t you _want_ me?”

He couldn’t quite meet Anthony’s gaze, feeling shamed by the way he was acting but not able to help himself from trying to hold on. Loki had never wanted to be reduced to this, practically _pleading_. He didn’t want Anthony to feel pressured, and he didn’t want to be given anything that Anthony did not mean to its fullest. But he needed to know why he wasn’t good enough, so that he could try to be _better_ , so that maybe he would at least have a chance of salvaging some measure of friendship from this whole mess.

He knew that it would hurt too much now, if he lost Anthony entirely.

Because his eyes were on the ground, Loki didn’t see when Anthony came closer, and the warm fingers that brushed over his cheek came as something of a shock.

“Anthony?” Loki asked, the name just a breath of air, just a touch of agony floating past his lips.

“Loki,” Anthony said, his voice quiet as he gently stroked Loki’s skin with his thumb. “This is harder than anything that I’ve ever done. I do want you, but I…”

“But you _can’t_ ,” Loki croaked. He should have known that even when he managed to find the perfect person, he would never measure up, would never be worth the pain he brought with him. Loki knew that he was a difficult person to love, but he had let himself hope, just this once.

He should have known that it would end in tears.

Anthony’s smile was full of sorrow. “There’s something that you need to know, first,” he said. “Something that… I should never have kept from you. But before I say… I need you to understand that you’re more than enough, okay? Loki, you don’t even know how much that I—”

Anthony’s words were cut off as the door suddenly slammed open with the sound of a thousand charging bilgesnipe– but what came through it was so much worse.

“Good work, Tony,” said Captain America, hefting his shield. “We always had faith in you.”

Anthony’s eyes were wide, staring at Rogers in shock– and then he turned back to Loki with an expression of complete and utter dread. And Loki was frozen, _horrified_ , a thousand moments passing through his mind, a thousand pieces of a puzzle finally slotting into place to form a picture that was so terrible, it shattered Loki to bits.

Anthony… was working with the Avengers.

“You betrayed me,” he whispered. “You’re one of _them_ , this whole time you’ve just been trying to _catch_ me—”

“Loki, _no_ ,” Anthony started—

But Loki had already heard too many lies, and he couldn’t bear to hear another fall from the lips that he had kissed mere _minutes_ earlier. It was just too much to endure, too much all at once—

So he wrapped his seiðr around him in a protective cocoon, almost as much to hold himself together as it was to take him away.

“He’s trying to escape—”

“He can’t,” Barton interrupted Thor delightedly. “Stark’s got anti-magic shielding, remember?”

The words gave Loki pause for half a moment, but that was all– because that was all it took for his magic to whisk him into the space between worlds, to pull him through the paths of Yggdrasil and away from the place that had slowly become his home.

He didn’t feel guilt as he ran, and he didn’t feel frustration or a lack of pride. Because Anthony had betrayed him, and… after that, he had nothing left.

—•—

Loki retreated back to the only place he thought he could, even though the memory of the last time he had visited left a foul taste in his mouth. Thankfully, there was no evidence to suggest that Doom had returned to the apartment, because even if there had been– Loki would not have had anywhere else to go. After all, Asgard did not want him, never had, and Anthony had been manipulating him all this time to try and get under his skin.

Anthony had been no better than Doom was– worse, perhaps, since at least Doom had always been up front about what he wanted from Loki. Anthony had wormed his way under Loki’s skin, had made Loki trust and– Norns, and _love_ him, but he had only done so with the intention of growing close enough to cut him down.

The Avengers called themselves heroes, but… it seemed that the heroes were darker than the villains ever were. And what kind of world did they live in, when the villains had a greater moral compass than the heroes?

The apartment was nearly empty, which was most likely a good thing– for the moment Loki was alone and had put up enough wards to feel safe he threw back his head and he _screamed_. His magic surged around him, ripping and tearing and destroying, making the room match the way that Loki felt. He let his seiðr fall free, let it feed off his emotions and destroy everything around him just as Anthony had destroyed his heart. It surged and writhed and _tore_ until he collapsed, too exhausted to do anything else. Only the wards he had placed had protected the rest of the building from falling– but the inside of the apartment was completely destroyed, and he was left curled on the ground amongst the debris of everything he owned on Midgard—

Everything, save those belongings he had moved to Stark Tower, those few precious items that had found their place amongst Anthony’s.

In the end, the breakdown only made him feel worse. His muscles ached, his face hurt, his body _screamed_ and his seiðr was more drained than it had been in months. So he did the only thing he had the energy to do.

He curled up as tight as he could, and he cried.

He cried for the lost moments of happiness, for those memories he had thought were flawless but would now forever be stained with the taint of betrayal.

Those weeks with Anthony had felt so perfect, like something out of a dream– and he should have known that it would be too good to be true. The Tower was built on a nest of lies, every word from Anthony’s mouth honeyed falsehoods and pretty promises aimed to draw him in until he was too deep to pull himself out.

It had been a good plan, Loki had to give him that. After all, Anthony really had seemed so _perfect_ , so beautifully matched to Loki in every way imaginable. Loki already would have done near anything, had Anthony only asked—

He could have told Loki to waltz into the helicarrier and lock himself a cell, and Loki would have at least _considered_ it.

And despite all the pain, all of the ache, the torment and the _betrayal_ – even though he was breaking into a thousand pieces that would never be able to be put back together, Loki knew that he still loved Tony Stark.

Loki had to wonder, though– why _had_ Anthony pulled away? If he had wanted to trap Loki, why had he not simply gone through with the kiss, pulled Loki in close and answered every one of his fantasies? Loki’s guard would have been lower than it had ever been before. He would have been so very vulnerable.

He could almost picture it, Anthony’s smile as he took Loki’s hand and led him to the bedroom– or, no, perhaps Loki would have been impatient, and would have skywalked the distance to press Anthony straight into the mattress. He could almost feel the bliss he would have experienced as their bodies moved together, as he took everything he had desired and gave Anthony whatever pleasure he wished for.

Yes, he could see it– and he was glad that it had not come to pass. Whatever Anthony’s reasons, Loki was grateful, at least, that such a thing had not been poisoned—

Though it probably would not have mattered. Everything else had been poisoned now, after all, and Anthony…

 _Anthony_.

Loki grit his teeth, and pushed every good memory away. None of it was true, everything had been a lie, so there was no _reason_ to hold on to them– save, perhaps, to fuel his hatred, and to remind himself of the dangers of becoming too curious, of getting too close to a bright flame.

The intrigue and mystery had been what had drawn him in at first, but now Loki knew that he had only been sensing the lies. He had been caught up in the bright colours of a challenge and the impossible beauty of a puzzle he could not crack– but Pandora’s Jar had been opened, now, and the horrors could not be placed back inside.

And when Loki next thought of Anthony, he tried to force himself to remember that the man had betrayed him, had wormed his way into Loki’s heart with the _intention_ of breaking it. Loki had suffered enough betrayals in his life that it was not hard to get into that state of mind, but when he remembered all of the others the pain threatened to cripple him entirely. So, rather than take that risk of incapacitation and vulnerability, Loki simply locked it all away. All the rage he felt, all the sharp edges and the burning torment was pushed away and directed into a single-minded determination.

The Avengers had wanted to catch him, either to lock him up or to send him to Asgard to face the executioner’s block. Working with Iron Man, Loki had only engaged in small mischief, the reallocation of funds, the destruction of factories, the kidnapping of businessmen. Perhaps it was time that he committed some crimes that would make him worthy of the punishment the Avengers had planned. Perhaps it was time to remind the mortals why he was once known as a god of chaos, why the Norsemen had written legends of his skill for causing pain.  

Those legends, after all, were actually rather tame when compared to what Loki was truly capable of.

And maybe it was a little petty, but the way Loki saw it—

Anthony had shown his true colours.

Perhaps it was time for Loki to show his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art for this chapter is on tumblr [here](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/186046813868/chapter-5-of-quietlyapocalyptics-fic-it-lies).


	6. Cold Sting

If Loki had been capable of feeling a thing, he might have been disgusted with himself as he appeared upon the SHIELD helicarrier and stared through the thick, bullet-proof glass at the injured mortal slumped inside his cell. But as it was, he was too angry, too hurt, and he only thought about the fact that this would most likely cut Anthony deeper than anything else he could choose to do. 

That is, if Anthony even cared what Loki did. Probably not. 

“I need your help,” Loki said– and sure enough, the words did not taste as bitter as they should. The rage was forcing him forward, making him do things that might have repulsed him before—

But what did that matter, now? Loki was clearly only worth befriending in order to capture, so why shouldn’t he lower his own standards? No one saw him as worthwhile, regardless. 

“You have realised your mistake?” Doom asked curiously, tilting his head. 

“Yes,” Loki said simply. “I have realised many things.”

He lay out his problem, and he gave Doom his terms. The human sorcerer listened intently as Loki stated that they would not harm each other, they would not try to take each other _captive_ , and when it was done – when they had completely and utterly destroyed the Avengers and left them all broken, they would go their separate ways and would _never do this again._

It was as much a compromise for his own conscience as it was for any other reason, because even in that state there was only so much that Loki could stomach. 

And when Doom agreed to Loki’s terms with the kind of vicious excitement that made Loki _sick_ , it almost made him want to turn around and end this, or at the very least to simply leave Doom in his cell while he executed the plan himself. But then he remembered what it had been like to _enjoy_ being partnered with someone, to be partnered with _Iron Man_ , and Loki knew that he needed to get it out of his system. And besides, Anthony knew how much Loki hated Doom, knew how much Loki loathed him– so really, there had been no other logical choice. 

They didn’t bother with planning, and they didn’t pause to think about logistics or even _how_ they would attack. When he wasn’t being political, Doom tended to attack head-on, and Loki was not in the mood for careful manipulations. He just… he needed to _destroy_ something, and if that involved destroying Anthony Stark in the meantime, then that was all the better. 

The cell was easy to open, and when Doom stepped out, Loki held a hand to the mortal’s shoulder and repaired the armour that Loki had not long ago had so much fun destroying. As he did so, Doom actually _groaned_ in relief, raising his head and rolling his shoulders as the broken pieces of metal returned to where they were supposed to be.

“You could do so much more with that,” Doom said. “Such power—”

“My power is _mine_ ,” Loki hissed. “We are partners in this, but nothing more than that.”

“If Iron Man has betrayed you, then surely it would only be of benefit to you—”

“Who ever said anything about a betrayal?” Loki snapped. “Iron Man and I were _never_ on the same side—”

“You were,” Doom said, almost sounding like he was _enjoying_ Loki’s pain. “I saw the way that you fought with him, Loki, the way you came to his defence. The only way that you could be suggesting we attack him now is if he has wronged you greatly.”

“This has no bearing on our deal,” Loki snarled, baring his teeth. 

“It was not a complaint,” Doom said firmly. “Merely a suggestion that if you are looking for a new partner—”

“I am _not_ ,” Loki hissed. “And I have already fulfilled my half of the bargain– but if _you_ betray me, then what I am planning to do to Iron Man will look like a mercy.”

“That does not seem likely,” Doom answered lowly– and Loki knew that Doom was not commenting on the likelihood of the betrayal itself. 

Gnashing his teeth, Loki merely turned in a jerked movement to head out of the cell, telling himself that he did not care enough about Doom to offer an answer– when really, he knew that the man had hit just a little too close to the mark. 

After all, no one else would ever be able to hurt him quite as deeply as Anthony had.

He used the anger that went surging through him to steel his resolve, and summoned his weapons in preparation for a fight. In recent days, Loki had often fought with a staff, as it could be wielded in a less deadly manner without needing to curb his skill– and Anthony had always seemed to prefer it when Loki kept the mortality rate of his opponents low. But as he turned away from that cell with Doom on his heels, he pulled his knives from the space between worlds and caressed them lightly in his hands, aching for the blood and violence, hoping that external chaos might calm the storm brimming inside his mind. 

Their intention was incredibly simple, and Loki was itching to get started. Originally, he had been tempted to attack Stark Tower outright, to destroy that place which he had begun to consider a home. It was only painful now to think on it, and just imagining how beautiful it would look burning to the ground – and how much pain it would bring Anthony to see – was almost as welcome a thought as the idea of carefully dismantling all of Anthony’s suits, piece by piece, so that they could never be usable again. 

But... _one_ thing gave him pause. 

JARVIS was in Stark Tower, and Loki was not pleased by the idea of hurting _him_. Of course, JARVIS had betrayed Loki just as surely as Anthony had, because he must have known. The Avengers, after all, had made it up to the penthouse so easily, and JARVIS should have been able to stop them. 

But… despite that, JARVIS had been kind to Loki, and he could understand the AI’s reluctance to turn against his creator. Loki would not serve JARVIS violence in return for _loyalty_ , even if that loyalty had hurt him. And thinking of JARVIS made him think of the other sweet creatures inside, of DUM-E and U who had never done anything but greet Loki with affection– and the thought of harming them was not something he could ever condone, even in his current state of devastation.

So rather than Stark Tower, Loki instead decided to go with easiest and fastest possible plan that he could implement. After all, he and Doom were already _inside_ the best target they could have, perfectly placed to tear the helicarrier to pieces.

As they stepped into the hallway, Doom suggested that they split up– but Loki shot down the idea immediately. If he and Doom fought separately then there would be no point to them having done this in the first place. Loki might as well have just taken down the helicarrier on his own—

And that vicious, dark part of him just wanted– _needed_ Anthony to see him at someone else’s side, to know that their partnership was perfectly replaceable—

Even if that was the furthest possible thing from the truth.

Shaking the thought away, Loki focused on the task at hand. Splitting themselves would mean to risk splitting the Avengers, and Loki wanted the pleasure of greeting them _all_. 

Doom’s magic felt slimy as it brushed against his own, nothing like how it had felt to combine his power with Anthony’s repulsors. But whether it felt wrong or not didn’t matter, because it _worked–_ their magic tore doors from hinges and crumpled the metal of the walls, setting off every alarm as they charged through the helicarrier and attacked everything in their path. 

Nothing SHIELD had was capable of stopping them– Doom held a shield in place while Loki threw out his seiðr and let it _destroy_ , ripping and tearing like it had in his apartment without holding back, throwing out all of his anger and rage until the helicarrier was groaning with the strain of staying in the air. 

And Loki’s blades gleamed in the flashing lights and the glow of different shades of green. He could hear orders being shouted over the intercoms, both at other agents and at he and Doom. Guns were blazing and there were people _screaming,_ the noise echoing almost as loud as the alarms. Loki felt a small twinge of guilt at that, but he forced it away, knowing that it was only a remnant of the morality Anthony had somehow managed to instil in him despite being a villain himself—

Well, no. Anthony had never truly been a villain, had he? All of the things he had done had somehow worked to benefit someone _else_ , whether it be the demolition of the environmentally destructive Roxxon, the burning of stolen SI weapons that would have otherwise put innocents at risk, or the interruption of other villains’ plots. 

The only times that he had ever _not_ been subtly _good_ was when he had been causing mayhem through harmless pranks in Central Park, and they had likely only been amusing dalliances to try and draw Loki in. 

Anthony had always been a hero, and Loki had just been _blind_. 

Loki hardly saw anything that he was doing, lost to rage and madness and _revenge._ It was these people, these _mortals_ who had turned Iron Man into a hero, who had dug their claws deep under Anthony’s skin and pulled him from Loki’s reach– who had been the _reason_ for all of this pain. 

Loki was taking his revenge only where it was deserved, and he told himself that he was enjoying every moment of it. But then, while he and Doom were rounding up a few stray agents on the outer deck of the helicarrier, things finally began to grow properly heated. 

“Loki!”

Loki’s heart twinged as he heard his name called out in that familiar voice, but he forced a smirk across his lips before he glanced up– and it was a sharp, broken thing that he knew had to be menacing, for it made the agents cowering in front of him flinch when they saw it. 

“Iron Man,” Loki greeted, his voice low and scathing. “What are you doing here, pray tell? This is unlike you. Protecting SHIELD is not something that any honest _villain_ would be caught dead doing.”

“And it’s not like you to be killing innocent people,” Iron Man shot back.

“Isn’t it?” Loki asked. He raised his knives, turning back to the agents who were still trapped by his seiðr. They were held in a corner of a hallway, and Loki had been just about to– well, he _had_ been about to kill them, of course. He had just been… preparing himself, steeling his nerve. 

Not that it _needed_ steeling, because he was a _god_ , and those people deserved no better. 

“No,” Iron Man said, his voice _annoyingly_ soft. “It isn’t.”

It just made Loki _want_ to slide his blade between their ribs—

After all, Anthony’s disappointment would not be anything less than what he already had. 

And… perhaps disappointment would be easier to cope with than hatred.

“Do not hesitate, Loki,” Doom snarled– though of course, it was unnecessary, because Loki _wasn’t_ _hesitating_. “Destroy him.”

And, actually– that was not such a bad idea, was it? 

“Oh,” Loki said, flexing his fingers around his knives and turning away from the mortals to face the _Avenger_. “It would be my pleasure.” 

Doom tried to join Loki as he stepped forward, but Loki threw out his hand and used his seiðr to shove Doom further across the runway, toward another flurry of agents who were forming lines. It seemed that Anthony was the only Avenger on the scene so far– his ability to fly would have brought him up to the helicarrier a lot faster than the others could have managed, though Loki had very little doubt that they would not take long to follow. 

With Doom out of the way, thrown aside now that he had played his part, Loki was able to charge forward unhindered. His snarl was vicious, his blades adorned with green, ready to _finally_ gain the retribution he desired. 

But when Loki reached Iron Man, Anthony stepped out of the way.

Loki had been partially expecting it, since Iron Man’s fights usually involved a lot of swerving and dodging, not unlike Loki’s own. He spun through the charge and swept around with his leg– but Iron Man flew upward, neatly avoiding him. That only made Loki angrier, and his seiðr snapped out to pull the suit down, forcing Iron Man back to the surface of the helicarrier and within reach of Loki’s blades. 

The fight was feral, but still it remained frustratingly one-sided. Loki lashed out with all the burning torment that raced through his veins, using every bit of pain and _betrayal_ to fuel his increasingly violent attacks. He landed more than a few hits, wickedly sharp blades scratching at red paint and gold-titanium, catching between armoured plates, jamming into an elbow-joint and below Anthony’s left knee. Yet Iron Man never, not _once_ , struck back.

Even when Loki paused to pin the red and gold armour with a glare, his breath coming in heavy pants as his knives were held in fists by his sides– Iron Man did nothing. 

“Fight me,” Loki snapped, slashing wide and hard with his knives and snarling when Anthony only dodged his attack once again. 

“No.”

“ _Fight me!_ ” Loki’s voice was harsh as he charged once more, throwing himself forward with a recklessness that he never would have fallen into had he been thinking clearly.

This time, Iron Man didn’t respond– he merely hovered above the helicarrier, holding steady as the whole thing struggled to stay in the sky. Loki considered pulling him back down again – or maybe holding him _still_ , for if he would not fight then Loki could just _take_ his vengeance – but the thought didn’t quite sit right, so he turned his back instead.

“Fine,” Loki growled, flipping the knife in his right hand to hold it at an angle more conducive to slashing _down_ rather than out. “If you will not fight me, then perhaps someone else will.”

The agents were still cowering exactly where Loki had left them, frozen still under the power of his seiðr. His determination was blazing anew, because it was clear that Anthony thought even less of him than Loki had previously realised. Now, apparently, Loki was not even worth the attention of a proper duel. 

It was demeaning and would have hurt even more had Loki not already become numbed to it, and it just brought everything else back into perspective.

Anthony didn’t care.

So, there was no reason to fear his disappointment.

Yet, when Anthony landed heavily on the deck between Loki and the agents, Loki only felt relieved _._ Anthony’s repulsors finally raised to face forward, but rather than fear, Loki was flooded with anticipation, with the satisfaction of _finally_ having achieved _something._ Loki had just wanted a reaction– something, _anything_ to prove that he was worth at least an acknowledgement. 

Then, Anthony’s palms glowed—

Loki crouched and threw up a shield, his smile widening—

And the blast flew straight over Loki’s shoulder. Loki spun with it just in time to see the explosion of light as it collided with the figure that had been charging from behind—

Doom’s shield only just held, and he was forced backward, his metal boots leaving scuff marks on the metal runway. 

“What are you doing?” Loki snapped, trying to keep Anthony in his sights even as he chastised Doom. “You know that you are not—”

“If you will not destroy him,” Doom snarled, “Then Doom shall do it _himself_.”

He raised his hands, orbs of green glowing through his fingers as he pulled back his arm in preparation to throw them in a brutal blast. And Loki got ready for a fight– because that magic might as well be aimed at him. 

“I told you,” Loki snarled. “Iron Man is—”

The end of Loki’s sentence was lost in a blinding flash of light, a crash of thunder, and the harsh, earsplitting _crack_ of lightning as it split the sky and hit the helicarrier head on. 

Loki threw out a hand to protect himself, not caring about Doom, who was right in the middle of the blast. But it wasn’t just the one bolt– more were incoming, shattering down out of the sky and assailing the helicarrier with deadly electricity. Tired and drained as he was, Loki’s shield was straining against the onslaught, and he was barely holding on—

And then Iron Man tackled Loki around the waist, throwing him off the side of the helicarrier.

They fell much too fast, hurtling down toward the ground with speed that pulled at Loki’s hair and watered his eyes. It would not be fatal – the helicarrier had fallen a long way since the beginning of Loki and Doom’s attack – but oh, it was certainly going to _hurt_. They were plummeting much too fast, and while Iron Man’s repulsors might have steadied them had Loki cooperated, he was still _fighting_ every step of the way. 

What right did Anthony have to tear him away the very moment that the other Avengers arrived? 

Loki could have skywalked, could have returned to the helicarrier or fled to try again another day– but that would have pulled Iron Man with him, and that was _not_ something that Loki wanted to risk. Better to hold on, to wait for the crash, to get away from Anthony while he was distracted by the inevitable pain of their landing. 

And oh, what a landing. 

They crashed into the middle of a New York street with the sound of a thousand clashing drums, smashing through the asphalt and leaving a crater in the road large enough to have comfortably housed the Hulk. The sound of it and the blast of the lightning and the _hit to his head_ left Loki a little muddled, but he could hear the screeching of cars, the screaming of pedestrians. They’d hit hard enough for Loki to see stars, and he glanced around blearily as he tried to reorder his thoughts.

Loki recognised the place. They weren’t far from Stark Tower in fact, and the thought made him grit his teeth and pull himself from their hole in the ground, tearing himself away from Anthony, uncaring of the bruises that lined every inch of his body. 

Anthony, it seemed, had not fared much better– his suit was covered in scratches and scorch marks, hardly a piece of red paint remaining intact. 

Loki himself did not look nearly so blemished, and he realised that Anthony must have taken most of the lightning blast. What luck. 

Yet, of course, Anthony still found the energy to make a quip. 

“I was just thinking how this was kind of like our first date,” Anthony said. 

Loki froze, unable to help the instinctual reaction. Still, he managed to keep his voice blank and emotionless. “What.”

“When we blew up Roxxon,” Anthony explained. “Oh, I had fun that night. It was the first time I think I really saw you.”

“You hated me then,” Loki murmured. Then, realising what he had said, Loki shook his pounding head and turned around. “You hate me _now_. Stop trying to charm me, Stark, it won’t work.”

“Back to Stark now, are we?” Iron Man asked quietly, sounding hurt by that fact. _Good._

Except—

The people around had fled, and the street they stood in was mostly deserted. But there would no doubt be cameras – there always were, in this part of Midgard – and yet...

“You’re not denying who you are?” Loki realised, only just forcing his tone into something harsh at the last moment. 

“I’m done denying everything,” Anthony muttered. “Loki, I just… I just want you to know the truth. I tried to tell you before—”

“I _already_ know the truth,” Loki spat. “This whole time, you’ve been an Avenger. You’ve been manipulating me, using my– using our _friendship_ against me. You wormed your way into my life and played on every word, and then, when you had me close enough, you turned around and invited the Avengers to come and _arrest_ me.”

“Oh, Loki,” Anthony sighed. His voice was soft, and something inside Loki _snapped._ “That’s not—”

“I will not listen to this,” Loki snarled. “You’re an Avenger, a _hero_ , and I can’t trust anything that you say.”

Iron Man raised his hands, palms forward—

And maybe it was a gesture intended to mean surrender– but then, maybe not. Loki’s knives were back in his hands with hardly even a thought, and he brandished them with every intention of a threat. 

“I should kill you,” Loki spat. “After what you did to me… If I were any kind of wise, I would end this right now. You are a mortal, your life does not _matter—_ ” He cut himself off, the words too bitter in his throat to get them out– but he had more to say, different words that came far easier. “There is nothing you can say that will make me believe you, not now.” Loki bent forward, adjusted his grip, and forced his expression into something hard. “You are my _enemy_.”

There was a heavy pause– perhaps because Anthony _had_ to know that there really was nothing he could say to make this better. Loki was preparing himself for the fight, readying for the vicious clash as they finally worked this out—

But, then—

“JARVIS,” Anthony said. “Whatever happens, you are to stand down.”

For a moment, Loki was confused– but then his eyes widened as Anthony’s suit opened, and he stepped out into the street wearing only jeans and a green t-shirt with the words ‘Led Zeppelin’ across the front. It was as if he had come straight from the workshop or the penthouse the moment he had heard that Loki was attacking the helicarrier, not bothering to take the time to put on anything more comfortable. And it didn’t make any sense, it didn’t add up with everything that Loki knew to be true. 

 _Why_ would Anthony do this? Why would he step out of his armour, when he knew that Loki had come to kill him?

“Go on then,” Anthony said, spreading his hands, his eyes wide and sad. “If you think that I deserve it. You did all this to try and hurt me– and now’s your chance. I made a promise once that I wasn’t going to fight you, and it’s a promise that I intend to keep. So come on, then– come and _end it_ , come and make it so that I can _never_ hurt you again, whether I intend to or not.”

It was everything Loki thought he wanted, right there on a silver platter. He could put a stop to this– cut Anthony _properly_ from his life, removing him with a surgical precision that would leave Loki healthy and free. 

But any cut was going to leave a scar, and Loki knew that this one would hurt far more than most. 

He more than considered it– standing there, with nothing but silence and a few yards between them, Loki _thought_ about how simple it would be to lunge across the space and bury his blade in Anthony’s side, to slit his throat, to bring about the end. 

His hands were shaking, _trembling_ with the knowledge that it would just be _so_ _easy_. It would only take a simple step forward, a flick of the wrist, a slash with the blade, and then…

And then Anthony would be gone forever. 

Should that not have been a happy thought? Should Loki not have rejoiced at the prospect of the one who had hurt him so grievously being gone for good, never to maim or betray him again?

Perhaps… 

Perhaps there truly was something within Loki that was broken, for when it came down to the moment of truth – when the end was within Loki’s grasp – there was only one thing that he could say. 

“I can’t,” Loki whispered, lowering his weapons as all of the tension flowed from his body, like the admission had taken a weight from his shoulders. 

His knives slipped through his fingers, clattering to the floor. He left them where they lay– he had no use for them, not when he knew that he could never truly lay a hand on Anthony, even after all that had occurred. 

Among all the pain and the hurt, the misery and the torment, just one truth blazed brighter than all the rest. 

Loki didn’t want to hurt Anthony, not really. Because despite everything that Anthony had done, despite the lies and the betrayal… Loki still loved him, and he knew that he always would.

He had been so sure that this was the best way to go, but to hurt Anthony with his own hands would be akin to slicing a piece of his own heart away. 

“You can’t?” Anthony asked, his expression soft.

“Do not _mock_ ,” Loki hissed. “Do not think that this will mean you can only hurt me _more_.”

Anthony’s expression pinched as his hands fisted in his jeans, as if he were trying to stop himself from reaching out. “I would never mock you,” he said, his voice softer than his tense posture would lead one to expect. 

“Is that not what you have been doing all this time?” Loki asked bitterly. 

“No, I… this isn’t what you think, it’s… please, just let me explain.”

Loki looked away with a grimace, knowing that Anthony would do so regardless of what he said. And, sure enough—

“Loki,” Anthony started, spreading his hands before him as if demonstrating that he was laying himself bare. “I admit that this started just like you’re probably thinking. I have always been an Avenger– after what happened in LA with Obie, the media just assumed that I was a villain, and SHIELD came to me and asked if I would mind playing into the story to get more information on the movements of the supervillains that were around, to see if there was any kind of organisation. But I was _never_ under any orders to target you specifically, and even if I were… I never gave them anything on you. It was only when we started to work together that the other Avengers suggested I try and use that to capture you, but I never _meant_ for this to happen.”

“You never meant for me to attack SHIELD?” Loki asked, his tone not without bite.

“That, yeah, but also you finding out the way you did– you getting _hurt_.” Anthony closed his eyes, and rubbed at his face. “I was going to tell you, when you kissed me. I… god, Loki, I’d wanted to kiss you for so long, but I…”

“That’s a lie,” Loki said hoarsely, his heart beating far too quickly– though not for the reason that he had ever hoped it would, should he ever hear those words fall from Anthony's lips. There was once a time that they might have caused him to leap for joy, but now they just sounded like honeyed poison. 

“It’s not a—”

“You never gave me any indication,” Loki interrupted. “Nothing to even suggest that you felt as I did, as I always have.”

Anthony’s eyes were sad as he asked, “Didn’t I?”

Loki wanted nothing more than to deny it a second time, but now that he was thinking about it, he wondered whether it was true. Because… there had been moments, hadn’t there? Moments where Loki had dared to believe that maybe…

But Anthony was a skilled actor, a seasoned liar. And what he was doing now felt liked a greater cruelty than anything else.

He must have seen the pained ire in Loki’s gaze, for when Anthony next spoke, it was with determined purpose. “I’m not lying, not now. The only reason I tried to distance myself from you was because I knew how easy it would be to love you,” he said. “And it is, Loki. It’s the easiest thing in the world. I… I could wake up next you every morning and be the happiest person in the world.”

“Don’t,” Loki whispered, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes in an attempt to curb the shard of agony that coursed through him at Anthony’s words. “Please, Anthony. Just…”

“ _That’s_ the truth,” Anthony swore. “Loki, I care more for you than I have ever cared for anyone in my life. And I promise… I’m not going to hurt you, not again. I couldn’t.”

“And how am I supposed to believe that?” Loki asked desperately. “Maybe you didn’t want to hurt me, but the entire time that we were together, the time I spent falling in love with you– the whole time, you were working with people who want nothing more than to see me _dead_. You know that the moment they arrest me, they’ll send me to Asgard to be executed—”

“I won’t let them do that,” Anthony said instantly. “If they ever catch you, I will help you get out—”

“But that’s not enough.” 

The words might as well have been a lance through his own chest, even though it was Loki who had said them– and from the pain in Loki’s heart and the way that Anthony flinched, Loki couldn’t say which of them the truth had hit the hardest. 

“Then what is?” Anthony asked, and it seemed that it was _his_ turn to be desperate. “Loki, tell me what would be enough, and I’ll do it. Right now, I’m willing to do anything, if it makes up for what I’ve done to you.”

“Nothing could make up for the fact that you’re an Avenger,” Loki spat, regaining some of his footing, pushing down on the desperation because– he didn’t owe Anthony that. He didn’t owe Anthony _anything._

“I’m not with them,” Anthony insisted. 

“Oh?” Loki asked. “Then why were you fighting with them up there?” He jerked his chin to where they could see the helicarrier above still slowly falling from the sky, slanting over the city toward the ocean. There were intermittent flashes of green and lightning and _explosions_ visible on top, and there was a quinjet fluttering around above it like a butterfly over a field of flowers, picking which one to alight upon next. 

“I wasn’t,” Anthony said. “I wasn’t with them, I made them leave Stark Tower as soon as I could.”

“But you _are_ an Avenger—”

“I arrived before them, didn’t you notice? I told them to piss off, I told them that I didn’t want anything to do with them ever again.” 

“And how can I trust that?” Loki asked again, his voice going hard. “How am I supposed to trust you, when everything you’ve _ever_ said to me has been a lie?”

“Not everything,” Anthony said, his voice a little broken. 

And maybe that was true, but how was Loki supposed to know? 

How could he differentiate between what was real and what was not, when everywhere he turned he had been faced with betrayal? 

The silence that fell over them then was difficult, and not only because they were still stood in the street, still bruised and hurt with too much space between them and yet not enough all at the same time. Loki wanted to leave, but he _couldn’t_. He wanted to shout and scream and yell but he _couldn’t_ , and yet nor could he simply remain quiet. 

It wasn’t so long ago that there had never been an awkward moment between them, when conversation had flowed natural and easy, whether that take the form of excited, incessant discussion or comfortable silence. This discomfort felt _wrong_ – it was simply too _difficult_ to stand opposite the person who knew him best, and yet feel like he wasn’t known at all. 

“You know, I thought that I could live with snippets,” Loki said, finding himself unable to hold Anthony’s gaze and tilting his head up to glance at the sky instead. It was his turn to lay his heart open before Anthony and hope that this time, just maybe, he might be understood. “I thought that I could live with only the small amount you were willing to give. A friendship, an acquaintance, merely watching from a distance– anything, I thought, would be better than nothing. And then I thought that perhaps being closer to you would make things better, but now it’s only made everything worse.” He took a moment to draw in a deep breath, trying not to be moved at all by the way that Anthony’s expression was beginning to shatter. “But I’ve learned from my mistakes, and now I know what it is to be so close, to love you and to just receive… pain, in return. And if that is how it is going to be for the rest of our partnership, then Anthony, I am sorry, but I am not going to be able to continue this. For my own sake, I think… I need to leave.”

“No,” Anthony said, his eyes widening as he stumbled forward, reaching out to grip Loki’s wrist in an obvious attempt to _keep_ him there. 

And Loki, in all his weakness, did not attempt to stop him. Because if this was his final moment with Anthony, if this was how it ended... then how could Loki give up one last, final touch?

He knew he would not be returning after this, that there would be no coming back. He had thought that maybe he could fix the problem by getting rid of Anthony, by hurting him just as he had hurt Loki. 

But of course, Loki should have known that feelings did not work that way. There was no getting rid of them, no way to simply cut them off and move on just because one wished it. 

Loki did and always would love Anthony with all of his heart, but… he couldn’t trust him, and so he couldn’t stay. 

Anthony looked like he was broken. There was something in his eyes that was shattered, and Loki _ached_ knowing that it was his fault. And he knew that this would be the hardest thing he had ever done. 

But it was something that he sorely needed, and so he held firm. 

“If you truly want to go, then I’m not going to stop you,” Anthony said. “You… Loki, you’re the best person that I’ve ever known. You match me in ways that I never could have hoped, but you deserve so much better than me. So if you want to go, now that you know the truth… then I’m not going to stand in the way of your chance to find happiness.”

Loki closed his eyes for a moment, because despite everything, he couldn’t help but think that Anthony was _wrong_. Because _Anthony_ was the one who deserved so much better than the broken pieces that Loki had to offer. 

Anthony’s hand was still curled around Loki’s wrist, and his thumb began to move in soft strokes. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t be enough,” he whispered. 

Loki swallowed, half wanting to say that wasn’t true, to promise that Anthony always would be—

But that just wasn’t the case, and he would _not_ utter a lie.

So he forced it down, he pushed those feelings away, and he said– “I am glad that you understand.”

The sadness in Anthony’s gaze was so raw, so _broken_ , that Loki was beginning to find it difficult to believe that it wasn’t genuine. Then Anthony swallowed and glanced away, his eyes sliding to the side like he couldn’t quite hold Loki’s gaze any longer. 

Then Anthony’s eyes widened at something over Loki’s shoulder, and he used his grip on Loki’s wrist to wrench him to the side—

Loki heard the gunshot with his whole body.

It reverberated through him with harsh vibrations, forming a terrible symphony between the ringing in his ears and the cadent _thump_ of a bullet hitting flesh. 

Anthony’s entire body jerked backward, twisting to the side as blood blossomed across his shirt. Despite the shock of it Loki lunged forward, but Anthony did not fall– he held one hand tight to his wound as he straightened his back, staying between Loki and the approaching threat. 

The Avengers had finally caught up to them, and had used their moment of distraction to get close without being noticed. Romanoff had been the one to fire the weapon, and her gun was still raised, her eyes a little wide as she saw who she had managed to hit. To the untrained eye her expression may appear stony, but Loki could see the uncertainty buried deep in her gaze. 

“Iron Man,” Rogers said, his eyes glancing between Anthony and the suit that stood empty some yards behind them. “Stand down.”

Wounded and bloody, Anthony stood as tall as he could, his fingers slipping against his shoulder even as he pinned the Avengers with the sharpest glare Loki had ever seen him muster. 

“If you want to take him,” Anthony said, his voice just _barely_ holding steady– “Then you’re going to have to go through me.”

“What is this?” Thor asked, his own expression confused—

“No,” Rogers rebuffed, “Tony, think about this—”

“I _have_ ,” Anthony replied. “I already told you. I’m done with the Avengers.” 

“You _can’t_ do this,” Rogers said. 

“Oh yeah?” Anthony asked through teeth gritted against pain. “Try me.”

“I _knew_ there was something wrong when you wouldn’t give us any intel on _him_ ,” Barton growled. “I told them, but Cap thought we would give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Loki’s lips parted slightly in shock, his eyes widening even as he fought to hold his expression in place. The Avengers had just… they had just unwittingly confirmed everything that Anthony had been saying, their second affirmation giving his words the credence that they had been lacking, the _assurance_ that Loki couldn’t find when he only had Anthony’s word to go on. 

Of course, a dark part of Loki’s mind whispered that this could just be a further trick, that the Avengers could very well merely be using this as another way of trying to get under Loki’s skin to endear him to Anthony once again.

But the blood soaking Anthony’s shirt and the rage in the Avengers’ eyes were both as real as the broken road beneath their feet, and Loki found himself hit with an abrupt and surprising surge of certainty—

Anthony _was_ _not lying._

But that blood was far too much to be unconcerned about, and even as Loki watched Anthony began to sway where he stood.

Rogers lurched forward at the sight– and it almost looked like he was going to help, but Anthony raised his free hand as if it was still encased in a repulsor.  

“No,” he said, and his voice was far weaker than it had been before, his skin far too pale. “No, you can’t hurt him, I won’t… I won’t let you.”

Then Anthony fell backward like his strings had been cut, and Loki moved faster than any of the others, catching him before he could hit the ground and cradling him close. 

“Lo’,” Anthony groaned. “Don’t…”

“Get away from him!” 

Loki didn’t know which Avenger had spoken– it could have been Rogers, or Barton, or even Thor, Loki didn’t know, it didn’t matter either way—

Whoever it was, his response would not have changed as he heard them approach.

“Stay _back_ ,” Loki snarled, throwing out a hand– and despite his exhaustion, he managed to push them all away with a burst of seiðr that must have been mostly adrenaline. He knew that he must have looked wild, feral even, crouched over Anthony with one hand on the ground by Anthony’s shoulder and the other extended out at the band of heroes. His lips were twisted into a snarl despite the tears he could feel pricking his eyes, and his hands were aglow with the force of his wrath. 

 _They_ had done this– they were trying to get closer, but they were the reason why Anthony had been injured. Romanoff may have been aiming for Loki, but it was her bullet that had pierced Anthony’s skin. 

Loki felt Anthony go limp, and his breath hitched. The problem was a flesh wound, a through-and-through with nothing to remove, and no infection having yet set in. To heal it would be well within Loki’s ability, but he would still need to concentrate– and he couldn’t take his focus from the Avengers, couldn’t risk them charging forward and pulling him away.

If he tried to heal Anthony, they were both lost. But if he didn’t, then Anthony was going to bleed to death. 

It was lucky, then, that they were not alone.

With Anthony unconscious, it seemed that JARVIS’ protocols overruled the order not to interfere, for the suit flew forward in a blaze of red and began to keep the Avengers at bay. 

It wasn’t much, but it was _enough—_

Loki looked down, his face mere inches from Anthony’s. The mortal’s eyes were closed now, his breathing unsteady, his hand limp over his chest having fallen where it had been pressed against his shoulder. He looked so very small, and Loki was so very, very afraid. 

With JARVIS holding the Avengers back with blasts from the armour’s repulsors, Loki had the time to gather Anthony in his arms and curl his seiðr around them both.

Then with one final, last hope, Loki pulled them through the space between worlds, leaping across the branches of Yggdrasil with only one thought in his mind—

He needed to get Anthony somewhere safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the art for this chapter on tumblr [here.](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/187212571078/no-you-cant-hurt-him-i-wont-i-wont-let)


	7. Brightest in the Dark

Loki was frantic as he lay Anthony on the bed, not caring that he was getting blood all over the expensive sheets. Anthony’s wound was bleeding freely as Loki tore away his shirt, the blood flowing too quickly and yet, at the same time not quickly _enough_ , causing Loki’s fingers to shake. Because that meant that Anthony’s heartbeat was slowing, and Loki knew that he didn’t have a lot of time. 

He lay his hands over the wound, slipping against the blood as he pushed his seiðr into the Anthony’s shoulder. He was tired, he was _exhausted_. He had already pushed himself to his limits in the past few hours, used his seiðr far more than he should have. 

But that didn’t matter, because Anthony needed his help. So Loki knelt close beside Anthony on the large mattress and pushed himself further still. 

The wound was serious, but it was not as bad as it could have been. The bullet had gone all the way through, and as Loki closed his eyes and concentrated, probing the injury, he could tell that no pieces of material had made their way inside. For the most part, Anthony had been lucky– except for the way that the bullet had nicked an artery running through his shoulder, causing him to bleed profusely and making the injury far more dangerous than it would have been otherwise. 

Loki had never been brilliant at healing, but he had more than enough determination and willpower, forcing the world to move around _him_ as he challenged the impossible and fought the laws of the world. Every part of him was crying out for Anthony’s survival and so he _made_ it happen, finding a loophole in the process to make up for his lack of skill– because, after all, the body already knows how to heal, knows what it needs to do. All Loki needed to do was speed the process along. 

So even as his hands began to tremble and his body began to ache, Loki continued to fuel Anthony’s body with more and more energy until the artery stitched shut, muscle knitted back together, and the wounds in skin closed over, leaving only a shiny white scar. A trained healer might have been able to make it so there was no mark at all, but Loki didn’t care– because a scar would be a small price to pay in exchange for Anthony’s life. 

Loki was swaying by the time that it was done, and he felt rather than saw Anthony begin to wake. 

“Loki?” Anthony asked, and his voice was croaked but it was so very, very _alive_. 

Loki whimpered, and all but fell on top of Anthony, his arms curling under Anthony’s intact shoulders as his body was wracked with shakes.

“What were you thinking?” Loki asked hoarsely, holding on tight. “Why did you do it?”

“I _didn’t_ think,” Anthony admitted, turning his head to press his cheek firmly to the top of Loki’s shoulder. “I just… I need _you_ to be safe.”

Loki choked on a sob, curling his hands more tightly around the man that he _still_ loved. It was impossible to deny that fact, and he was resigned to Anthony still knowing it as well. Yet the relief he was feeling overwhelmed all else, fighting even his tiredness as he refused to let exhaustion pull him from the feel of Anthony’s hands coming to rest on his waist.

Thinking that he was about to lose Anthony had been the worst moment of his life, more painful even than realising that Anthony had betrayed him– though now, of course, Loki was beginning to wonder whether that had ever truly been the case at all. 

But, for now all that mattered was that Anthony was out of the woods. There was no longer any concern that he would not recover, for he was already completely healed.

Loki held on to that, letting it wash over him and hold back the tidal surge of pain that threatened to envelop him now that he was no longer so focused on Anthony’s wound. Because they hadn’t truly spoken about where they would go in the future– because Loki had thought that there wouldn’t _be_ a future. At least, not for _them_. 

Earlier, he had believed that he would have to leave, because he couldn’t trust Anthony– now, he thought that maybe he _could_ , and suddenly staying almost seemed like a viable option. 

As long as it was something that Anthony wanted as well, that is. 

They had both hurt each other so much, causing pain and torment where none had been necessary. Anthony should have revealed the truth earlier, but when it had come out, Loki had not even given the mortal a chance to explain himself– he had simply fled, too afraid to wait for Anthony’s words. And then, rather than merely leaving well enough alone, Loki had mustered up all of his pain and tried to force it upon Anthony instead, hoping that making him hurt would make Loki feel better himself. 

And then, _because of_ _Loki_ , Anthony had been shot by one of his own teammates. 

Anthony had said that he still cared for Loki, but Loki wouldn’t blame him if he had changed his mind. 

The soft strokes of Anthony’s hands over his waist brought him back out of his thoughts, and then Anthony was struggling to sit back into an upright position. Loki helped him lean back against the headboard, and then he sat back on his heels and just waited for Anthony to take the next step. But Anthony just watched him with concern for a while, and it was only after a minute or so of silence that he began to speak. 

“You’re tired,” Anthony said softly– an observation, not a question, and his fingers came to brush over the round scar on his own shoulder. “You didn’t need to do so much.” 

“Of course I did,” Loki said, and although it wasn’t the only – nor even the most significant – reason why, he added, “You saved my life, and you risked your own—” 

“And you saved mine, despite every shitty thing that I have ever done to you,” Anthony said. “And then… you brought me back here. Why here?”

Loki shrugged. He didn’t really want to admit that this was the one place he felt safe, that despite the fact that this was where he had learned of Anthony’s betrayal, it was the first place he had thought of. 

His own apartment was completely destroyed, after all, and there was nowhere else that they could go. He was sure Anthony was capable of at least reaching that conclusion on his own. 

But Anthony, it seemed, would not be so easily swayed.

“There _is_ something wrong,” Anthony deduced. “You brought me here, when you know that they’re just going to come straight after you again the moment they realise where we are.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Loki replied. “I… I don’t suppose that I will be here much longer.”

Anthony deflated a little then, as if he had forgotten– and that gave Loki the courage he needed to ask his next question. 

“Unless… you want me to stay?”

Anthony’s eyes widened, his hands pressing into the mattress either side of him as he said, “I don’t want you to go.”

“Then I won’t,” Loki said, the words sounding distant behind his own nervousness– because even though this was something he wanted, it still didn’t quite feel _real_. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”

“No,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “Not as long as I _need_. Loki, please, stay with me for as long as you _want_ – as long as you think that you’re willing to give me another chance.” 

The words were a knife to the heart, because Anthony thought that Loki _wouldn’t_ want to. But Loki was more than willing to give Anthony all of the chances in the Nine, because now that he knew Anthony _hadn’t_ betrayed him, hadn’t reported to the Avengers and hadn’t wanted him caught—

Anthony had been willing to take a _bullet_ for him.

But what had happened before was such an awful mess, sitting heavy between them and forcing them further apart. Loki wished that he could just sweep it away, to remove the problem and just go back to the way they were before Loki realised that Anthony was an Avenger. 

Although… perhaps, there was a way that he could.

“I am so sorry for what I did, Anthony,” Loki said. “It’s not you that needs a second chance.”

Anthony’s lips parted, but before he could respond Loki was already continuing. 

“If you want, if it’s easier, we can start over,” Loki said gently. “Pretend that we have only just met.” He held out a hand like he had seen other humans do on a first greeting, or like an Asgardian expecting to clasp arms in a friendly manner. “I would… I don’t mind looking past what happened before, because I want you more than I want to stay resentful. So… we can start again, pretend that this is the beginning we deserved.” 

But when Anthony smiled, he ignored Loki’s hand and reached out to cup Loki’s cheek instead. His thumb brushed in a soft stroke over Loki’s skin, and Loki leaned into his touch, tired eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

“No,” Anthony said, causing Loki to look at him again with concern that was washed away with Anthony’s very next words.. “I don’t want to start again. What happened between us might have hurt– but I don’t want to forget it, _because_ it happened between _us_. I will always cherish the memories of our time together in this tower, whether you want to make new ones or not, and I don’t want to pretend that they never happened because they’re too precious to let go of.”

Loki’s heart was hammering in his chest, catching on easily to the fact that Anthony wasn’t just talking about the memories– he was talking about Loki himself. And Anthony was looking at him almost as if… as if he felt the same way that Loki did, and Loki couldn’t help but bring his own hand to Anthony’s cheek so that they were mirroring each other. He leaned in slowly, wanting nothing more in that moment than to feel the press of lips—

But the memory of Anthony flinching away last time was more than enough to make him hesitate before taking that final leap, hitting him hard enough to freeze in his tracks and go completely still. 

And then _Anthony_ was leaning in the rest of the way to connect their lips in a sweet kiss, their mouths sliding together slower but with more ease than they had before. Loki braced himself against the headboard with one hand so that he could lean closer, eagerly drinking in as much of Anthony as he could. Even when their lips parted they continued to hold each other tight, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes remaining closed. 

“I have wanted to do that for weeks,” Anthony said, his voice a breathless whisper. “But I didn’t want to be with you when you didn’t know the truth. I didn’t want to start with a lie.” Loki looked at Anthony then, and found Anthony looking at him, their gaze meeting with soft smiles. 

“I have wanted this as well,” Loki replied. “For so long.”

“And now we can, because there _are_ no more secrets between us,” Anthony said. And then Loki took the chance, his fears falling away as he leaned down to kiss Anthony again– just soft and light, nothing more than a touch of lips. There was no longer anything to prove, and the kiss didn’t _need_ to be anything more than an affirmation of how they felt. 

After a few more moments of contentment, Loki shifted to sit beside Anthony, using some of his little remaining energy to clean away the drying blood as he did so, to make sure that they could be comfortable as possible. Anthony leaned over the side of the bed to grab a mostly-clean shirt that had been discarded on the floor the day before, and pulled it over his head before pulling Loki back into his arms. Loki leaned contentedly against him, his head coming to rest on Anthony’s shoulder as their sides pressed together. 

“Thank you for saving me,” Anthony said, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Loki’s head. “I don’t think I said that before.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Loki whispered. “I would do it again in a moment– and not in exchange for my own life, but because I couldn’t bear to live in a world without you in it.” 

Anthony’s smile turned sweet, and they curled in against each other, fingers exploring, exchanging light touches and just being _together_ in a way that they had both yearned for, but had never managed before. They had been through a lot, and had suffered so much– but at least for now, they could simply enjoy the relief of finding each other again. 

“Sirs,” JARVIS said, his voice low and quiet as if he were afraid of breaking the atmosphere– though his words, unfortunately, did that for him. “I do not wish to interrupt, but the Avengers have just entered the lobby.”

Loki felt himself go still, and Anthony ran a soothing hand down over his arm. 

“Well, that’s polite of them,” Anthony said. “If I’m honest, I was expecting the quinjet to land on the roof.”

Loki didn’t laugh– because he knew what was coming. But, that was okay, because now that he knew Anthony was an Avenger so much of his personality had come to make sense. He knew that Anthony wanted to do good, that he wanted to _help people_ – and so Loki knew exactly what he must do. 

“If you want to go back to them,” Loki said, “then it is not too late. I can make it appear that I have put a spell on you, and we can continue to keep our affection for one another a secret—”

Anthony cut him off with a kiss, quieting Loki’s words with the press of lips and a quick flick of his tongue which made Loki gasp. And when Anthony pulled away, his eyes were burning with something fierce. 

“When I said no secrets, I meant it,” Anthony murmured, his fingers soft through Loki’s hair. “Loki, I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide this from anyone, not ever.” 

The Avengers were on their way, were even in the building. Yet instead of making preparations or putting on a suit, Anthony instead leaned closer to Loki and kissed him again, moving slow and languid, as if they had all the time in the world. Loki whined against Anthony’s mouth, threading his fingers through his hair as he was lost in the sensations, in the feel, in the _taste_ of Anthony on his tongue. 

When their lips pulled apart, Anthony’s mouth moved to Loki’s cheek instead– and then to his forehead, his brow, his _nose_. Anthony was kissing every part of Loki that he could reach, until Loki was laughing with delight and catching Anthony’s lower lip between his own once more.

They were both grinning then, enjoying the return of the ease between them and feeling so very, very happy. 

So happy, in fact, that Loki was sure _nothing_ could make it better. 

But, as he was so often wont to do, Anthony then went and proved him wrong. 

“JARVIS,” Anthony said, his tone light and amused.. “Let the Avengers into the elevator, and then stop it. Make sure the top of it is sealed so Natasha won’t be able to get out– and then threaten to drop it if they don’t leave.”

“Anthony?” Loki asked, shocked and curious. Surely he wasn’t going to—

“What?” Anthony asked, turning to him with a smirk that was at odds to the softness in his gaze. “Not villainous enough? Maybe I should just have JARVIS trap them in there and then put the _Powerpuff Girls_ theme song on repeat. Would that work for you?”

“You… but you’re a hero,” Loki said. “Even if you don’t want to join the Avengers, you’re still _good_. And that is fine, you don’t... You don't need to pretend for me. I know that you’re a hero, and I would be willing… I can be better, for you.”

“Loki, sweetheart, I would never _want_ you to change,” Anthony said. “You’re perfect the way you are, okay, and I wouldn’t ask that of you. Not because I don’t think you could do it, but because I don’t want you to be miserable, and because I like the person you are now. If I wanted a hero, I’d have my pick. But I don’t. I want _you.”_

Loki felt those words curl through him like a soft wave of pleasure, and he knew that he would hold them dear. 

Unlike all of the people on Asgard who had always tried to tell him that he needed to be more polite, less judgemental, more courteous– that he needed to follow the rules and stop being so mischievous and _why can’t you just be more like everyone else_ … Unlike anyone that Loki had ever met, Anthony only wanted _him_ , just the way that he was. 

He felt it as curl of pleasure in his chest and a steady thrum in his heart, and it only made him all the happier that everything that had happened had led him _here_. But despite the way they made him feel, Loki knew that there was a fact which they would still need to deal with. 

“But _you_ are still a hero,” Loki said. “And treating the Avengers this way… it will not help you clear your name.”

“I’m no hero,” Anthony corrected. “I am _Iron Man_ – and by all accounts, Iron Man is a villain.”

Loki shook his head, wondering why Anthony wasn’t seeing what Loki was, because– “You got out of your suit, if the world realises that Tony Stark is—”

“Oh Pepper will probably kill me for it,” Anthony said with a nod. “But that doesn’t matter. I want to be with you, Loki, and I already told you that I don’t want to hide that. Not ever. And I meant it.”

Loki’s breath caught as he understood what Anthony was trying to say. Because Anthony wasn’t just choosing to stay with Loki over being part of the Avengers– he was choosing to be with Loki in every way, not just his lover but his _partner_ , choosing Loki’s life, his methods, his _morals_. He was choosing to embrace the way that they had fit together so perfectly as a team, willing to stand by Loki’s side in all things. 

Loki had thought that he might have to change– would have been willing to do so, even, because as much as he didn’t think he would fit the life of a hero, he would have been willing to do it for Anthony, so that he could continue as he was. It would not have been perfect, but it would have been perfect _enough_. 

But now, Anthony was offering _everything_ , and it was more perfect than Loki could have asked for. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Loki whispered, and Anthony smiled as his hand came to cup the side of Loki’s neck.

“I’ve always been more of an anti-hero anyway. It wouldn’t take much to make that final jump,” he said. “I did some good as a villain before. And I think I like your way of doing things better than the Avengers’.”

Loki _did_ chuckle at that, and Anthony watched him with such tenderness in his gaze that it made Loki feel weak, his chuckles fading to a smile that he leaned up to brush along the line of Anthony’s jaw. 

“Don’t you see how much you mean to me?” Anthony asked gently. “Everything that you are, everything that is _you_. You’re it for me.”

“Anthony?” Loki asked, breathless, hesitant, _hopeful_. 

Anthony’s smile was small, and his words were true. “I love you, Loki,” he whispered. 

Loki’s smile was so wide it ached, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “I love you, too.”

They didn’t lean in again from there, not feeling the need. They simply gazed at each other with ridiculous grins, both filing the moment away in their minds to hold on to forever. 

“So, what do you say?” Anthony asked, cutting through the softness with an amused spark in his eye– and yet, still a touch of nervousness to the tilt of his lips. “Loki Liesmith, will you be my literal partner in crime? I could use the guidance for my _official_ downfall to the better side– and besides, it only makes sense. I’ve already got the obnoxious lair with my name plastered across the top. And with enough convincing, I might even be tempted to share it.”

“I’d like that,” Loki admitted, unable to help the incredulous laugh even as he felt so very blessed by the realisation that Anthony was asking him to _move in_. There would no longer be any uncertainty, no longer a need for Loki to feel like he was invading Anthony’s space or arriving uninvited. This time, Anthony had _asked_ , and Loki, of course, was saying yes. “I would like that a lot.”

“Yeah?” Anthony asked. “That’s good, because so would I.” 

And as their smiles pressed together for yet another kiss, Loki knew that things were only going to get better. They still had things to discuss, to work on, but they both knew that they _could_. There wasn’t anything left to bring them down– Doom had been dealt with, and the Avengers weren’t an issue either. JARVIS had control over the Tower, and was more than capable of keeping the Avengers away– at least for now. No doubt they would be back, but Loki knew that he and Anthony would be more than enough of a match for them. 

There was nothing _to_ worry about, nothing to stop them from simply holding each other and letting the happiness wash over them for a few more sweet moments, curling together and surrendering to the exhaustion of all they had survived with contentment curving up their lips. 

The road had been long and full of pain, but it had led them to a place where they could be together and be _happy._ They had a future of mischief and villainy ahead of them, and that?

Well, that sounded like everything Loki had ever hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the art for this chapter on tumblr [here.](https://kasumiscrawls.tumblr.com/post/189976698428/after-3-months-of-not-showing-my-face-and-making)


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